Back in 2023, I had the pleasure of interviewing Lisa McGee on the BAFTA red carpet the night she won for Derry Girls season 3. It was one of the highlights of my career to date, but after watching her character Saoirse (Roisin Gallagher) flee for her life from the awards in new Netflix show How to Get to Heaven from Belfast, I'm starting to wonder if McGee felt the same way.

The Derry Girls creator was always going to have all eyes on her when it came to her follow-up show, and I'm pleased to report it's an absolute belter. This time around, McGee is blending eerie tragedy and crime-style mystery into her signature blend of Irish wit and charm, and together, it goes down like a spoonful of sugar.

At its core, best friends – screenwriter Saoirse, mum Robyn (Sinéad Keenan) and reclusive mummy's girl Dara (Caoilfhionn Dunne) – are told that an estranged friend from their school days has died after falling down the stairs. When they get to the wake and discover Greta (Natasha O'Keeffe) might not be dead after all, they open a can of worms bigger than they could ever have imagined.

When I say you are going to race through these eight episodes because they're so addictive, I mean you won't even move to get another drink. After a doozy of an opening episode, I almost resented the plans I had that meant I had to leave my TV screen unwatched. That's the power of McGee, people... it's almost witchcraft.

The critical eye in me has to really pick this apart... yes, it could have been easily condensed into six episodes and I'm not too sure how much I love one of the most significant sub-plots. But for the most part, I'm breathing a sigh of relief that great Irish telly is back once again (and this is possibly the most Irish show I've ever seen).

How to Get to Heaven from Belfast isn't Derry Girls, but it won't let you forget where Lisa McGee started

Think about Bad Sisters, Big Little Lies and Orphan Black all getting together and having a little Irish TV baby, and you've got How to Get to Heaven from Belfast. McGee's latest work has much darker undertones than we're used to, touching on everything from murder and the occult to witness protection and false arrests. Even the intro titles are creepy enough to send a shiver running down your spine.

While these are topics you'd rarely joke about, How to Get to Heaven from Belfast is teeming with natural laugh-out-loud moments. Our lead trio are just as hilarious as they are charismatic, making them the ideal characters to deliver McGee's exceptional script with the timing and wit it needs.

This is where it's most similar to Derry Girls – but if anything, the new Netflix show is almost an ode to it, ramming in Easter eggs wherever you look. Everything from subtle dialogue references to the cast mural that now sits in the center of Derry is there, and that's before you get to cast appearances from the likes of Saoirse Monica-Jackson, Art Campion and Father Ted legend Ardal O'Hanlon.

The comedy is strong enough to stand on its own, but I loved reminiscing on some of my favorite Derry Girls scenes as How to Get to Heaven from Belfast went along. Again, it's something that shouldn't work but does, and it's a testament to McGee's craft that she's managed to pull off intertwining the two shows.

As McGee said the night I interviewed her, "I'm Irish, so I can talk quickly." It's this snappy and dynamic pace of storytelling that makes any of her work feel so electric, meaning we can power through the scenes that don't quite work and not feel hard done by. It's such a creative leap that it was almost a given that there would be imperfections, but like all good things, the pros far outweigh the cons.

The soundtrack is any 2000s kid's dream – and almost a character in its own right

It took watching How to Get to Heaven from Belfast for me to realize that we've scarcely had any dramas centering on 2000s school culture. The 80s and 90s have been done to death, with the 70s not too far behind. Even the 2010s to now are well represented thanks to shows like Euphoria.

But for some reason, the 2000s has been a blind spot... until now. Much of Saoirse, Dara, Robyn and Greta's backstory takes place during their high school days in 2003, and boy has production paid attention to the all-important details. Classic McGee motifs like diary writing and shifting boys at house parties are all present and correct, but the day-to-day culture of the early naughties almost feels refreshing.

This best comes to life in the (frankly, exquisite) soundtrack that I hope somebody at Netflix eventually turns into a Spotify playlist. We've got Liberty X, 'The Ketchup Song', and copious plays of 'Sound of the Underground' by Girls Aloud in multiple episodes (though their featured discography is not limited to this).

In peak humor, we've also got B*Witched's 'C'est La Vie', which had me both roaring and subconsciously Irish dancing within seconds. How lucky are we to have a talented creator who doesn't take themselves or their work too seriously? Where else can we have a payoff that resembles Popstars: The Rivals?

I will go as far as to say that How to Get to Heaven from Belfast is my best TV show of 2026 so far. It's not perfect, but the smorgasbord of cultural and craft references we're getting are a feast for the eyes and ears, and I'm thrilled McGee's talents will be appreciated on a global streaming service. Let's keep funding her work until the money runs out, please.

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Sometimes, you're simply better off being a young and wild bohemian lothario, loitering in seedy bars and waking up with more than one woman in your bed. Bridgerton season 4 part 1 puts an abrupt stop to Benedict's (Luke Thompson) foolhardy days, and there's a part of me that wonders if things are best left the way they are.

Our first four episodes of the new season have a real 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' energy to them, and not just because Netflix has annoyingly decided to split season 4 in half. While Benedict and new character Sophie (Yerin Ha) charmingly embark on a touch-and-go romance, everything else around them feels like more of the same.

Depending on how much you love Bridgerton, this is either a blessing or a curse. The fact that season 4 sticks so rigidly to its tried and tested format means that we're not really being offered anything new – if you've seen any of the past three seasons, you've seen this one.

Not only that, but Benedict and Sophie's courtship is a blatant rip-off of Cinderella (or perhaps more accurately, the 2004 movie A Cinderella Story). The creative move to a generic fairy tale feels like a low blow for a show that was once at the pioneering forefront of modern period dramas.

But don't worry too much, we're not being completely cheated out of seductive drama. As our four episodes progress, the chemistry between our love interests is undeniable, even if Benedict frequently acts like a total man-child. However, I don't think Queen Charlotte (Golda Rosheuvel) should have named him as the catch of the season, because that title clearly goes to Violet (Ruth Gemmell).

Benedict is not the beating heart of Bridgerton season 4 part 1, and he's messing things up with Sophie already

I don't need to explain too much story here if you know your Disney princesses. Violet is absolutely sick of the fact that Benedict makes no effort to find a wife, and she's determined to make him her project for the social season.

Across the way, maid Sophie works for fellow new arrival Lady Araminta Gun (Katie Leung), who immediately inserts herself into the story as a scheming new villain. Araminta functions as our wicked stepmother, stewing furiously when Sophie sneaks off to the first masquerade ball of the season. She steals Benedict's heart while she's there, prompting a town-wide search for the mysterious masked woman without a glove.

Despite it being completely obvious to anyone with eyes that Sophie was that girl, the initial search to bring Benedict and Sophie together is painfully laborious. It's a narrative we've seen in play thousands of times, and nothing about this version is remarkable or authentic. However, the payoff is worth it once they admit their feelings to one another.

Benedict and Sophie are from two completely different worlds, but when they're away from society, they've got all-timer potential. They truly bring out the best in each other, but the second someone else catches wind, the cracks start to show. It's astonishing how Benedict can bring himself up and let himself down in the same breath, and if I were Sophie, I'd be steering well clear of him.

But if all our girls chose to stay single, we wouldn't have a show, would we? Eloise (Claudia Jessie) has siloed herself to the metaphorical shelf, and I wish she could peacefully live the single girl life she's so desperately to cling onto. Francesca (Hannah Dodd) is sexually unfulfilled, while Lady Agatha (Adjoa Andoh) is embroiled in a seemingly pointless feud with Queen Charlotte.

Woe is to be a woman in Bridgerton, if you ask me... except for my new hero, Violet.

Violet is the real star of Bridgerton season 4 – part 2 better treat her amazingly well

All too often, the older woman is overlooked when it comes to being romantically viable. I'm not talking about the Samantha Jones, Sex and the City type of older woman, but the quietly doting mother who's been pigeonholed into her identity by her circumstances, not who she is. Lady Violet Bridgerton falls into the latter category, but season 4 part 1 is her chance to shine.

Even before Bridgerton started, Violet was a woman on the sidelines. A loyal widow to the husband she lost some years before, her life has been her children, even when it comes to her social standing. She throws lavish parties purely in the hope that she can marry her kids off, never stopping to exist as an individual.

But along comes Lord Anderson (Daniel Francis), intent on getting into Violet's heart and knickers. He's ever the gentleman, taking things as slowly as Violet needs while she comes to the gradual realization that life is indeed for living. Their hidden romance isn't the butt of an elaborate joke but a prize to be sought after, growing in importance as the episodes continue.

We can talk about Benedict, Sophie, or any other youngster until the cows come home, but that is where the real magic is happening. Dynamics that incorporate the effortless representation that you didn't know you needed is what creator Shonda Rhimes does so well. This is women writing for women, in a space where women feel seen, safe, and satisfied all in one. That, my friends, is priceless, no matter how mundane the big picture has become.

It's Violet alone who has me hooked for Bridgerton season 4 part 2, dropping in a month's time. I hope Netflix treats her the way that she should be treated, let alone Lord Anderson.

As for Sophie, she's still got the threat of Benedict's lewd behavior and Araminta's devious plans hanging over her head... but surely a girl will catch a break sooner or later, right?

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Light spoilers follow for The RIP.

I'm a big fan of movies where Ben Affleck and Matt Damon co-star. I've greatly enjoyed films in which just one of them appears, but there's no denying that projects they're both in – Good Will Hunting, Dogma, and Air to name three – have a certain magic about them.

Color me intrigued, then, when the first trailer for The RIP, the first movie in almost three years they share screentime in, dropped in late 2025. A crime thriller with a talented cast and seemingly twisty-turny plot, it bore the tell-tale signs of being Netflix's next hit movie.

Enjoyable as the ride is, though, The RIP is simply a serviceable film. While engaging up to a point, it lacks originality and the shock value storytelling necessary to stand out from the genre pack.

Are we the good guys?

Inspired by true events, The RIP introduces us to Lieutenant Dane Dumars (Damon) and Sergeant J.D. Byrne (Affleck), who spearhead a crime-busting taskforce known as the Tactical Narcotics Team – or T.N.T for short – in Miami, Florida.

When an anonymous stash house tip-off comes in one evening, Dane rounds up the troops – J.D, Mike Ro (Steven Yeun), Numa Baptiste (Teyana Taylor), and Lolo Salazar(Catalina Sandino Moreno) – to investigate. Arriving at a property where the skittish Desi (Sasha Calle) lives, the group soon discovers an eye-bulging $20 million haul hidden in the attic.

Considering the size of the stash, it's not long before trust and tempers start to fray over whether they should call it in or, for reasons that become clear later, pocket the money. And, when outside forces – the DEA, a local cartel, and another mysterious faction – become aware of what's been found, Dane, J.D., and co. must establish who they can rely on and if they'll even survive until morning.

So, The RIP is yet another examination of institutional corruption within the law enforcement service? In a nutshell, yes. As with any tale involving crooked cops, though, the suspicious nature displayed by each character is what'll keep you engaged throughout its near-two-hour runtime as you try to determine who'll betray whom.

That said, The RIP would've better sustained the momentum of this particular brain-tickler if it weren't hell-bent on positioning Dane as the officer who appears to be behind the money-stealing suggestion.

Indeed, The RIP's trailers and its first act go to great lengths to install him as the prime suspect. Spoilers notwithstanding, things aren't as simple as they appear. Nonetheless, I would've been more invested in trying to solve the mystery before the third act's grand reveal if The RIP had actively explored the duplicitous nature and motives of other T.N.T. members much earlier, and in more depth, than it does.

Whether it's through characters' actions or serpentine narratives, similar genre fare like Prisoners, Memento, and Gone Girl – ironically, the last of that trio also stars Affleck – and classic whodunits keep you guessing from the get-go and/or right up to their climax.

Try though it might to elicit the same sort of jaw-dropping response when its big twist happens, The RIP hasn't built up the necessary tension to draw such a reaction when the time comes. It doesn't fall flat per se, and I'm sure the unexpected turn will surprise some viewers, but I expected more from a movie whose primary intention is to entertain via the unpredictability and apparent unreliability of someone within the T.N.T's ranks.

Acting on impulse

So, The RIP is sorely lacking in the storytelling department, but what about the performance of its star-studded cast?

As if it were ever in doubt, Damon and Affleck's on-screen chemistry is as engrossing as ever. The effortlessly natural rapport they exhibit ensures that Dane and J.D's bond is as tight and magnetic as the actors' own relationship. The pair bounce off one another with ease throughout, as their testosterone-driven characters butt heads with their superiors – and each other – in spicy and dicey circumstances.

The RIP's leads are ably backed up by their fellow actors, with Yeun and Calle giving particularly compelling performances. However, other prominent supporting cast members, Moreno and 2026 Golden Globe winner Taylor, are underused, with their characters occasionally being sidelined by the direction of the plot.

Additionally, I wish there had been more scope to develop the dynamics between the group's ensemble. Doing so would've gone a long way to explain each individual's actions, and further ratcheted up the tension and melodrama when accusations begin to fly as near-total mistrust sets in.

In fact, barring The RIP's examination of Dane and J.D's brotherhood, it's J.D and his FBI-employed brother Del's (Scott Adkins) topsy-turvy relationship that's arguably scrutinized in more detail than Dane and/or J.D's associations with their fellow T.N.T members. That might not matter to some, but it's an oversight I struggled to look past.

If it's action you want alongside – or instead of – your crime-based thrills, The RIP is a tad undercooked in that department. Indeed, the first of its slim gun-toting and vehicle chase sequences doesn't materialize until an hour has passed. Even then, while they're undeniably adrenaline-fuelled, the gunplay and rubber-burning set-pieces aren't as chaotic or seat-gripping as I'd hoped.

My verdict

No matter how you slice it, The RIP feels like a star-powered movie that was tailor-made for the Netflix generation. That being, a safe, not-so-memorable film that its so-called 'second screen-viewing' fanbase will enjoy for what it is before moving on to the next thing the Netflix algorithm suggests for them.

It's certainly not the worst film I've watched on the world's best streaming service – far from it, in fact. But, whether it was down to my heightened expectations for the latest Damon/Affleck venture, or myriad other reasons, it just didn't click for me – and that is a crime in and of itself.

The RIP launches worldwide on Netflix on Friday, January 16.

There's been a murder – and I'm not just talking about the plot of Agatha Christie's Seven Dials. In fact, I'm talking about the Netflix adaptation itself. The infamous crime author has sold between 2-4 billion copies of her work, but somehow, the TV version of The Seven Dials Mystery feels absolutely criminal.

Not to brag, but I'm ordaining myself as an expert here. Back in the 2000s, UK TV channel ITV had the monopoly on Poirot and Miss Marple adaptations, and I've grown up watching them. Add in movie classics like Peter Ustinov's Death on the Nile and devouring her books from the age of 14, and I'm an application away from joining the Agatha Christie fan club.

If we're comparing Agatha Christie's Seven Dials to everything I listed above (and it would be pretty hard not to), its must-miss energy is down to two things: the original novel and the changes made to the streamer's adaptation.

But before we dig deeper into that, don't let my instant negativity put you off too much. With a star-studded cast and a three-episode runtime, there is some merit to binging it... perhaps when you're trying to do some last-minute ironing on a Sunday afternoon.

The only person who will likely be breathing a sigh of relief is Kenneth Branagh, whose trilogy of Poirot movies received a widespread panning from critics and audiences alike. Personally, I only thought A Haunting in Venice was an out-and-out disaster, but he definitely won't be a crime-themed punching bag after this.

The Seven Dials Mystery is the wrong Agatha Christie story to adapt for Netflix

I would confidently bet £10 (or $10 / AU$10 for my US and Australian friends) that you've never heard of The Seven Dials Mystery before. Not only was it not a big hitter like And Then There Were None or Murder on the Orient Express, but the novel it takes characters from, The Secret of Chimneys, was a much bigger success. The Seven Dials Mystery released to mostly bad reviews from critics, and all three of these points together aren't the best groundings for an adaptation.

Is the original book really one of Christie's best? I don't think so. It's definitely got a more light-hearted tone, but that only really comes across if you were actually from the 1920s. The overarching mystery doesn't really stick, and it's all a bit too complicated for its own good.

None of these things are Agatha Christie's Seven Dials' fault, more what it's got to contend with. There were a million better stories for the biggest streaming service in the world to choose for its own original content, particularly if it wants to build up a visual back catalog of Christie's work.

Sparkling Cyanide, Crooked House or Cards on the Table might have made for shrewd choices, especially given as their narrative structures are all a lot more sound. But here's when we begin to run into our other problem.

If you've seen any of the latest TV Agatha Christie adaptations over the last decade – which have either been for the BBC or direct to Britbox – you'll have noticed a subtle downward spiral of quality. From Kim Cattrall's Witness for the Prosecution to Anjelica Huston in Towards Zero, no new series has seemed to garner favor with anyone watching.

So, are the glory days of adapting Agatha Christie for the small screen over? It certainly feels that way for the standalone novels. I think a streaming service like Netflix could score some points with a Miss Marple reboot, but even that's a big ask.

The changes Agatha Christie's Seven Dials make to the original book don't work either

WARNING: spoilers for Agatha Christie's Seven Dials ahead.

When Murder, She Wrote and Columbo used to air in the 1980s, viewers quickly caught on that whoever was the biggest star in an episode was also the murderer – so much so that creators then had to change their casting tactics. Clearly, we don't learn anything from history, as the biggest stars in Agatha Christie's Seven Dials are the ones who give the game away.

Without giving the ultimate whodunnit away (although you could just read the book if you want an answer), Lord Caterham has been changed to Lady Caterham in this adaptation, and that's a huge problem. Frankly, casting executives could and should do anything to have Helena Bonham Carter in their production, and she's as dazzling and zany as you'd expect in the limited screentime she has.

However, she also gives away the secrets of the Seven Dials in a way that wouldn't have happened had our lady still been a lord. It's an incredibly silly blunder that knocks the central pins of storytelling to a ground, and I can't believe the decision came from the same man who made Broadchurch.

If you want to keep some mystery until the end, I'd almost recommend skipping episode 2 entirely. You can work out all the connections and logistics at play by the halfway point – something the Queen of Crime would never have let happen on her watch, even if it was one of her weaker stories.

So, what am I really getting from this streaming experience? A feeling of being let down and not seeing enough of Bonham Carter. Shoutout to Martin Freeman though, who's clearly having the time of his life playing make believe in a game of Netflix Cluedo.

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There's a running joke in the TV and movies industry that January is when studios release their 'clangers' (i.e. projects that will undoubtedly flop) – but just nine days into 2026, new Netflix movie People We Meet on Vacation is busting the myth.

If you've heard the title before, that's because Netflix is adapting the smash-hit 2021 romance novel by Emily Henry. However, if you're a diehard 'Vacationer' (that's what I'm going to call the fan base), you'll notice some major changes... but I promise the sizzling and playful romantic chemistry between Poppy (Emily Bader) and Alex (Tom Blyth) hasn't gone anywhere.

Even the core storyline itself feels refreshing as a rom-com concept. Wild and bashful Emily is the polar opposite of reserved and anxious Alex, but after meeting at university, the pair spend years of their friendship having adventures while traveling the world. They always try to spend one week of their summer vacation together no matter where life takes them... but as they get old, life makes things a lot more complicated.

Personally, I love that we're starting a new year with the energy that platonic love is just as important (if not more) as romantic love. People We Meet on Vacation does eventually inject the rom into rom-com, but the most of the storyline, we're following two people learning to love each other for exactly who they are, and that isn't confined to romance.

Yes, the dreaded homogenous 'Netflix look' that the streamer molds all of its project into is back, and there's nothing note-worthy in its construction. But frankly, I don't think we need any additional razzle dazzle here.

People We Meet on Vacation relies solely on its cast – and you'll fall in love with them

I cannot sing the praises of Bader and Blyth highly enough – even their surnames put together sound like the perfect double act. For Bader, it's a chance to shine in a leading role that could have been easily given to the likes of Sofia Carson or Zoey Deutch. Instead of taking the lazy route, Netflix has been more inventive and daring in its casting, and that has a colossal payoff.

As for Blyth, I think he's more than earned the right to have a bit of fun on screen. After Plainclothes, Wasteman and The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes, it's almost as much of a holiday for us to watch him take on a light-hearted role. Blyth exquisitely toes the line between standoffish and fun-loving, letting his guard down enough to be open to what the world around him has to offer.

Together, they're dynamite. If I'd seen them filming a scene while walking down the street, I'd be fully convinced that the pair hadn't only known each other for years, but were truly head over heels. Chemistry isn't something that can be cast or manufactured, and that makes People We Meet on Vacation all the more special.

Everything comes together naturally, whether that's the budding relationship between our lead duo, the ease of following them around the globe or the ability to be fully invested in their fights and grievances. Combined with Henry's unique take on constructing a romance story, and you've got a mighty end product.

Book lovers, be warned of some changes

Now for the slightly less brilliant news: there are noticeable changes to the original book. It should almost go without saying that a lot has been left on the cutting room floor – transforming a 400-page book into a movie under two hours means there's going to be some casualties. It's nothing that impedes the storytelling... just don't be too disappointed if your favorite travel scene didn't make the cut.

Without giving the game away, the changes are mostly location-based. To a degree, this is logical, given that it might simply be easier to film in certain places than others. However, there's also a big change surrounding how Poppy and Alex eventually end up at David's (Miles Heizer) wedding.

Really, this is only going to bother those who loved the book, as objectively, you'd never be able to tell that anything is out of place. Still, at least we've got a hilariously-placed cameo from Lucien Laviscount (Alfie, for Emily in Paris fans), to smooth over any issues.

People We Meet on Vacation doesn't have wow-factor, but it doesn't need to. In the Netflix romance canon, it stands alone just by doing the basics incredibly well, with an original twist. Binge it this weekend under a pile of blankets while pretending you're on holiday, and you've got the picture-perfect weekend.

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Spoilers follow for Emily in Paris season 5.

The minute I heard Emily in Paris season 5 was actually going to be Emily in Rome season 1, I breathed a sigh of relief. After four seasons of Emily (Lily Collins) relentlessly chasing after Gabriel (Lucas Bravo), getting into relationships she shouldn't and making chaotic decisions at work that accidentally made her a PR success story, we needed a change of scene.

I was desperate for an injection of fresh energy and a feeling that the tried-and-tested format could be revamped in a way that still honors the show's foundations. But boy, how wrong I was. As the saying goes, if it ain't broke, don't fix it – and, after watching the entirety of this season, I feel as though I've accidentally manifested a crummier version of what we already had.

The worst part is that the show is now inferior because, rather than let the story evolve naturally, the decisions its creative team made instead are, frankly, baffling.

At the end of last season, Emily had met Italian beau Marcello (Eugenio Franceschini) and was ready to take her career to the next level by heading up the new Agence Grateau office in Rome. However, Emily in Paris 5 u-turns on its forebear's setup by unnecessarily shoehorning Sylvie (Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu), Luc (Bruno Gouery), and Julian (Samuel Arnold) into Emily's new Italian life. On top of that, Marcello is revealed to be the most repulsive and odious boyfriend since Logan (Matt Czuchry) in Gilmore Girls.

We stay in Rome for less than half of season 5, too, and the diabolical heavy handling of Emily's time there had me practically sobbing for more Gabriel screentime. How did things change so much during the show's year-long absence?

Emily in Paris' core concept has been ruined by bad creative decisions

It's not an easy thing to say, but I genuinely believe the fabric of Emily in Paris season 5 has been torn to shreds by misguided creative decisions. Not just in one area either, but across the board.

Let's start with Rome. In this season's premiere, Emily finds out that her season 4 finale dream of heading up Agence Grateau in Rome is nothing more than a sham. Instead, Sylvie decides to dispatch the entire team to Rome and resume her leadership there, which in turn undoes season 4's career step-up for the show's protagonist.

Not only is Emily unfulfilled at work (mostly because everyone around her is determined to make her feel inadequate or bulldoze their own dreadful decisions through), but her personal life isn't going too well, either. The Marcello we met in season 4 is sexy, mysterious and full of possibility. In season 5, though, he's selfish, flippant, and not overly interested in building a partnership.

By episode five, all of the above has fallen apart. What's the point in this colossal upheaval if you're not going to do the best by your main character? In hindsight, it all feels pointless and like a missed opportunity – but we're only just scratching the surface of those.

For instance, spoilers notwithstanding, best friend Mindy (Ashley Park) has a relationship with someone she shouldn't. When she lies about it to Emily, the two get in a massive albeit needless fight. With the pair each flitting between two men at any given time, the weary yearning is yet another sign of subpar storyline development.

Only Gabriel can save the day if Emily in Paris season 6 happens

Despite the fact I've fully signed off on suspending any belief before I've sat down to watch, there's only so much partner-swapping I can take in a Netflix series like this. Now that Mindy has joined Emily's romantically indecisive bandwagon in the worst way, investing in any kind of Emily in Paris relationship has never felt so superficial.

The pair's various romances, nor their friendship, offer anything of value, instead only delving further into shock factor that doesn't do anyone justice. Emily and Mindy used to have such a wholesome, nourishing relationship that has now dissolved into high school mean-girl meddling. Whatever happened to girls before guys?

The same can be said for Emily and Gabriel, who are in an uneasy lovers-to-friends middle ground, though Bravo hardly has any screentime. It almost feels like the show's creators know they've made a mistake sending Emily to Rome, and are now trying to furiously backpedal by shoehorning Gabriel into scenes that subsequently feel less coherent

Thankfully, there's potential for Emily in Paris season 6 (which is currently unconfirmed) to set this right. If it happens, I think season 6 would need to be the series' last – and you'll see what I mean when you watch this season's finale. If our end goal of Emily in Paris is for Emily and Gabriel to finally live happily ever after, it has one last shot to land it the proverbial plane.

Basically, I'm just desperately trying to retcon my own past thoughts and get Gabriel back in the thick of Emily's personal life. We thought a change would work but, after it was butchered, the only way up is for the show's creative team to give us what I initially thought I didn't want.

Even Sylvie, Luc, and Julien have veered too far from their start, with Sylvie's personal life becoming one preposterously stereotypical joke, while Luc and particularly Julian pale into existence. Emily's not being treated well, either, but at least she looks immaculate.

I promise that there are moments of light-hearted normality amid an otherwise subpar season. For the most part, though, Emily in Paris' latest chapter is très mauvais. That said, as long as Marcello never shows his face again, there's still enough reason for me to see any future seasons out...

Emily in Paris season 5 is out now in full on Netflix, aka one of the world's best streaming services.

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Is Goodbye June a Christmas movie, or a movie that simply has Christmas in it? I'm not sure – but what I do know is that you won't stream a more tragically beautiful film this festive season.

It's quite a choice to drop a film that follows a dying woman's last days on Christmas Eve, but I can see why Netflix made the decision. If anything, the timing drives home the importance of hugging your loved ones that bit tighter, and never missing the chance to tell someone you love them.

In a nutshell, mom and grandmother June's (Helen Mirren) cancer has spread, sending her to hospital for what she and her family know will be the last few days of her life. Doting son Connor (Johnny Flynn) and his sisters, highly-strung Julia (Kate Winslet, who also makes her directorial debut), internally angry Molly (Andrea Riseborough) and flighty expat Helen (Toni Colette) spend as much time as they can by their mothers' bedside.

Along with June's ailing husband Bernie (Timothy Spall), the quartet's job is to give June the best send-off possible, despite a myriad of issues and long-held grudges making emotions run even higher than you’d expect in such a scenario.

Reading those last two paragraphs may well have put you in mind of your own family, whether it’s particular people or a similar situation – and that's one of the great strengths of Goodbye June. Our cast might be A-list, but here they're grounded, and their relatability helps to deliver what at times feels more like a fly-on-the-wall documentary than a drama.

The movie is something of a family affair off-screen as well as on, and some more cynical critics might be tempted to brand it as a ‘nepo baby’ creation (Winslet stars and directs and her son Joe Anders writes the script). I actually think their family ties are a huge advantage here... and thank God Winslet is now trying her (very successful) hand at directing.

Watching Goodbye June is like looking into my own past – and you might feel that way too

One of the biggest compliments you can give an actor is that they fully inhabit a role they take on. We’re not watching Helen Mirren play a dying grandmother here, we’re watching June dying.

When I look at June, I see my own grandmother, who died two years ago in similar circumstances, surrounded by her family. Every detail takes me back there, from her haircut and cardigan down to the pearl necklace and the gold ring she can no longer wear.

In a way, I'm projecting here, as I didn't get to be there for my grandmother's final moments – the peace June and her family ultimately find is something I hope my own family did too. But there's something universally relatable in June's situation.

"Masterclass Mirren" (as I'm now calling her) delivers a performance up there with The Queen – so it was a shock to learn from Winslet's press tour that she'd initially refused the role, explaining she never plays characters with dementia or cancer. I'm so glad she broke her own rule for Winslet, and I really think they've created something incredibly special.

There's a scene in Goodbye June where June is left alone in hospital to sleep, and she turns to the window and finally allows herself to shed a few tears after putting on a brave face for everyone else. Mirren conveys vulnerability and traumatic catharsis utterly convincingly, in a scene that will resonate with any woman who has ever lain awake crying in the small hours because life has gotten too much (which is probably all of us).

It's the little details – the family bickering, the gentle ribbing, the chaos of bringing up children, and the occasionally overwhelming reality of simply existing – that make Goodbye June feel so well-rounded, even if I can never watch it over Christmas again.

Whoever thought of Toni Colette for this movie needs a raise

What might surprise you given the movie’s synopsis is how tenderly funny Goodbye June is. Even in the darkest of moments, there’s laughter, most often courtesy of Spall and Riseborough.

The film’s casting is inspired across the board. Mirren is an obvious score, and Spall isn't far behind her. If Winslet and Riseborough did a 23 and Me ancestry test and found out they were related, I wouldn't be surprised – Julia and Molly are the most convincingly fractious of siblings, and you’ll absolutely believe that their grudges really are decades old.

For me though, it's Colette as Helen who is the most inspired inclusion. She has the least amount of screentime, and casting an Aussie as Winslet's sister can't have been a subconscious choice (no matter how good Colette is at accents). When her character is revealed as a chakra-aligned free spirit who has emigrated to Florida to expand her practice, it all makes perfect sense.

Helen is the ideal counterweight to her sisters, and provides some measure of solace to lonesome brother Connor. And, by way of a B-plot involving her, Goodbye June also examines late-in-life pregnancy, effortlessly threading back into the idea of June's memory living on.

Anders' script is thoroughly convincing and sharply observed, which is particularly impressive given his relative youthfulness. You can take your pick from any of Goodbye June’s cast and identify exactly which one you'd be, thanks to his expertly drawn character portraits. That said, there’s perhaps a little bit of all of them in us – we feel represented in Julia's overwhelming sense of responsibility, Helen's growing and all-consuming sense of fear, Connor's alienation, or Molly's frustration with the world around her.

Visually, there's definitely a Netflix-specific feel to the movie that's becoming increasingly noticeable across the platform's content. In the context of a Christmas movie, I think it works, akin to a really sad version of The Holiday. But Winslet's vision as a director lifts the movie above the everyday; as much as I hated being told that actors make the best writers and directors while doing my master's degree (I'm not an actor, and I’m sure non-actors in the industry are tired of hearing it too), she makes a convincing case for the notion.

At this point it probably goes without saying that you need to steel yourself to watch Goodbye June, but you’ll be richly rewarded in return.

To witness people enduring great pain, even if those people are fictional characters, asks us to reflect on what truly matters in life, and it can be a deeply affecting – and yes, consoling – experience.

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Who knew Taylor Sheridan's titan reign at Paramount was going to be such a disaster for Netflix? Well, just about everybody – and the new western series The Abandons completely proves that.

Let's set the scene. Instead of the usual Kevin Costner-style male dominated environment, two matriarchs rule this version of the Wild West. Wealthy tyrant Constance Van Ness (Gillian Anderson) rules the town of Angel's Ridge with an iron fist, determined to control every last inch of it.

Unfortunately for her, poor rancher Fiona (Lena Headey) is a woman who stands her ground. She's fighting to keep her found family's ranch in their hands, resulting in a fatal clash between the two women. Or a 'mother-off', as the kids on TikTok might say.

It sounds like an almighty spectacle, and in some respects it is. The action is big scale on a big budget, the ensemble is fully invested and the production of all seven episodes is absolutely outstanding.

But then there's the overarching storyline, and the overall effect. When you're releasing a western series in the 21st century, it will naturally be compared to 'Sheridanverse' juggernauts like Yellowstone, Landman and 1923. If you watch them all and remember The Abandons, I'd be very surprised.

The Abandons is cursed by an environment way out of Netflix's control

If any main streamer or broadcaster releases a western these days, we're watching it with intense scrutiny. A decade ago, nobody would have batted an eyelid, but the genre has been single-handedly resurrected by Sheridan and Paramount's partnership. As he continues to churn out smash hit shows, that doesn't really leave room for anyone else.

For Netflix, this means that any content that isn't an automatic smash hit is likely to be forgotten, and I think The Abandons falls into this category. It's had more success with new western-romance shows like Ransom Canyon, and I think if the streamer wants to be an industry leader in the genre, that's where it should direct its efforts.

This makes it sound like The Abandons is absolutely dreadful, and it's anything but. However, it doesn't stray to far from "fine". Every element of its composition is solid and delivers what it needs to, but exceptional? Memorable? I'm not so sure about that.

Part of the problem is due to how the overarching storyline unfolds. In episode 1, we're thrown into a myriad of plots that aren't properly explained – and I don't mean that we should naturally be kept in suspense, like a murder mystery.

As an example, Fiona comes from Ireland and has managed to congregate a found family on the Abandons ranch over the course of a few years. How she got to the US, and how they all found each other, becomes convoluted too quickly.

I'm all for a bit of "show don't tell," but I need enough of an understanding to full sink my teeth into the western illusion. Instead, I'm flailing around like a bystander caught in the middle of a gunslinging duel. This effect continues over the series, and that's not amazing incentive to keep on binging.

Gillian Anderson and Lena Headey mother the house down

However, it's not all doom and gloom – let's do my favorite thing in the world and talk about Gillian Anderson. I don't think this is her best role of the year (that would be in Trespasses on Channel 4 in the UK), but she never turns out a bad performance. Obviously, because she's Gillian Anderson.

Constance Van Ness is everything you want in an archetypal villain, and remains calculated, cold and cruel in every decision she makes. She's quite literally on her high horse here, metaphorically (and sometimes physically) kicking every person and mutt who dares to get in her way. For a Gillian Anderson fan, it's everything that you could possibly want, and I see new YouTube fan edits in her future.

Of course, Lena Headey isn't far behind Anderson. Fiona is as tenacious as she is decisive, almost single-handedly driving the plot forward with dangerous inciting incidents and turning points. At the same time, she's guarded and elusive, and the urge to learn more about her becomes overbearing. Scenes between the two are actually few and far between, but when they happen, they're golden.

Obviously, anything these two are in automatically holds more weight, but to say the good in The Abandons rests solely on their shoulders isn't fair. Their ensemble cast is strong, and the ranch, Angel's Ridge and the natural countryside beauty are almost all characters in their own right.

I don't think the new Netflix western will be the most satisfying TV binge this December, but you won't be wasting your time by watching, either. It's certainly a budget version of a Taylor Sheridan show (metaphorically speaking, not in production value), but if you're a fan of our leading ladies, The Abandons is a slam dunk.

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I'll tell you what wasn't on my Christmas list to Santa this year – unironically enjoying (nay, loving) a Netflix festive film. I've watched a lot of bad ones in this job, but My Secret Santa is undoubtedly the best of the sappy genre.

In a nutshell, it's Mrs. Doubtfire if Robin Williams decided to be a Santa drag king instead of a sassy Scottish pensioner. Instead of a man desperately trying to win his estranged wife back, single mom Taylor (Alexandra Breckenridge) needs fast cash to send her daughter to an elite snowboarding resort.

By being employed there, she'd get a staff discount, but the only opening is for a seasonal Father Christmas. Bing bang boom... she gets the job in a full Santa makeover.

Of course, romance is in the air too. Matthew (Ryan Eggold) recognizes former singer Taylor in a record store, and just so happens to be the new general manager at the resort – you can already guess how it's going to end just by reading this synopsis.

Whichever Netflix casting agent had the foresight to merge Virgin River and New Amsterdam's leading actors together deserves a massive festive bonus, in my eyes. Together Breckenridge and Eggold deliver a genuinely well-crafted tale that perfectly slots into the cozy sub-genre they've both whittled into shape over the years.

If anything, it almost makes up for the fact we're not getting Virgin River season 7 this month (if you squint hard enough, I'm sure Eggold would look enough like Martin Henderson).

My Secret Santa cements Alexandra Breckenridge as the Queen of Netflix

If you suggest I'm solely writing this review as an excuse to write a love letter to Breckenridge's work and further my cause to try and interview her in 2026, I don't know what you're talking about.

She carries My Secret Santa squarely on her shoulders, and she completely pulls off what is, rationally speaking, a completely implausible story. This is the kind of tale she was born to tell, and the movie's happy-go-lucky vibes underpinned by more authentic real-world problems suits her warm and engaging personality incredibly well.

In essence, I don't actually care about Taylor's character arc or her capers while wearing the baggy pants of Father Christmas – I'm just always buying what Breckenridge is selling. It's impossible to not be entranced by her screentime, exuding natural charm in everything she does. You want to be her, you want to be best friends with her... even when she's pretending to be an old man.

As far as Christmas movies go, this one is pretty original

The biggest compliment I can give My Secret Santa is that it feels current without trying too hard. There are no shudder-worthy TikTok jokes, no trends being jumped on, and nobody trying too hard to fit into a mould that isn't inherently them. Yes, the ending is undoubtedly cringe, but it's in keeping with the spirit of Christmas movies.

Tia Mowry isn't a natural fit as a villain, and there's no huge stakes aside from Taylor's daughter not being able to snowboard. However, we're here to get invested into a romantic connection, not be plunged into terror. Obviously, it's all a bit naff (lacking in taste and style, for my non-Brits), but that comes with the territory.

I can't believe I'm writing this, but I'm already contemplating watching My Secret Santa again (which is essentially the equivalent of pigs flying). I got so much joy, warmth and feel-good vibes from Netflix's latest festive offering, and that's how you know it's a job done well.

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