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Elia Kazan once again as the director of a social drama. That's why there is abundant, frequent, and rapid dialogue, magnanimous forgiveness, and consequences evaded at the right moment. Less is sometimes more, and one intense scene would have been enough for this film and would have said more than the fifth or sixth monologue about what could be getting done but isn't. Gregory Peck himself later admitted that had he been a more mature actor, he would have put much more into the role of Mr. Green; as it is, unfortunately, he makes Gentleman's Agreement look too much like a tableau.

Season 1 – 60% – The first episode took my breath away. It ironically denigrates its main heroes, adds cautious doses of fear of the unknown, and gives a sense of something new. And then the plot moves into classic narrative procedures, the form locks itself in the endless addition of more and more gramophone hits, and the only thing left that I could really enjoy was Lucy. The remaining characters often annoy or even irritate you, secrets are explained in a transparent or predictable manner, the main heroine is constantly reminded that she will soon start behaving differently on the surface than under the hood, and honestly, Fallout for me works more like a love story or family drama, or even a western. The sci-fi aspect, social critique, anti-war pride, or uncovering shadows of the past I ultimately swallowed only as a necessary evil, to be expected as part of any post-apocalyptic sightseeing trip. But the show is still original, so I will be cautiously curious about the continuation. I just really wish the mood would stabilize. The combination of heavy-handed jokes, political satire, unrepentantly B-movie-quality monster flick, paranoid thriller, and action parade where fatal injuries can sometimes be healed with a potion and sometimes not, made it almost constantly hard to sit through.

Season 1 – 50% – Eli Jorne wrote three episodes of the tenth season of The Walking Dead. Negan appeared in all of them, and in two of them, he was even the main character. Because these were some of the best episodes of that period, it seemed like a great idea to put him in the showrunner's seat for a work whose attention would be almost exclusively focused on this beloved and hated antihero. And then everything fell apart miserably. The Dead City is nothing but drawn-out traipsing around New York that could last no more than an hour and a half and still wouldn't make much sense. The reason is that it comes at you with unnecessarily speed. The first episode airs half a year after the grand finale of the original series, and it's hard to explain how we have time jumps right away – maybe it's to justify why no familiar faces appear in the flashbacks. Aside from that, the main storyline revolves around a psychopath who can't keep his mouth shut (and the perennial slimeball Željko Ivanek phones him in as routine Villain Number 3), then around the incomprehensibly fiery Marshal Perlie (played in his usual way by the stiff Gaius Charles), and then of course around Maggie, who, even long years after the apocalypse started, still does things like throwing away weapons and trusting strangers. But what's even worse – despite the crowds of enemies and hordes of undead, most of the time I couldn't shake the feeling that nothing was happening on the screen at all. This is not how I imagined "expanding the world". Before spinning in circles, I'd rather they just let the brand rest.

The weakest of the birthday specials, but only because it could easily have merited a proper two-hour film. Because it has everything. Little winks from the distant past, from a sinister enemy, in whose skin Neil Patrick Harris enjoys every line, tears, joy, and of course it wouldn't be a final episode without bending firmly established rules and surprises in ways that leave me just staring at the screen in amazement, pleased that Russell T. Davies is teasing me and the audience's expectations with a knowing smile. But the most relieving feeling comes from the last ten-minute stretch, from finding unexpected peace, from reconciliation that never should have come and yet is here nonetheless. Therefore, the chuckle at the end is not only a relaxing and familial experience, but almost therapeutic. Thank you for this trifecta for happiness. I never thought The DoctorDonna would appear on the screens again, so I'm just blissfully smiling that I have been able to witness it. I've never been so happy in my life.

Was it me, or was Isaac Newton hot? A pure delight of adventurous storytelling, theatrically precise acting full of the finest nuances, and an unmistakable sense of tension when the viewer suddenly realizes in a completely ordinary moment that the Cosmic Owls are not what they seem. The weaker special effects can easily be forgiven when I remember David Tennant era and the macabre body effects associated with his more terrifying episodes. A minimalist piece and yet the essence of the series, all in one.

Once upon a Time Lord. I belong to the minority that enjoyed the Chris Chibnall era and adored the previous incarnation, but I won't lie. In just the first five minutes, the first mischievous dialogue, and I feel like it's 2008 and the series is back in the days where it wasn't at its best, but at least most emotional. The duo of David Tennant-Catherine Tate is a treasure whose discovery once merited the most dramatic increase in the fan base, and their return is like a balm to the soul. The fear that the atmosphere will be as strong and crazy as it used to be is supported by ignorance of where the cosmic adventure can turn, how much drama the old/new creator Russell T. Davies will want to allow at the beginning, and how much he will risk trampling his own legacy. And of course, surprisingly, gender and sexuality are also commented on. After all, this is Russell T. Davies, the man who created Jack Harkness and all of Torchwood. If you still don't get it, you've missed your own fandom, congratulations. But it's a shame to shake your head: the balanced ones here are the winners, and as soon as the main character dramatically shouts for the first time, I'm right at home. Peaceful family life, a surprising twist cleverly grafted onto long-forgotten mythology, and word battles that can only be helplessly chuckled at.

Nobody else got to live our days. The final episode of any era always brings me that difficult nostalgia, and I must admit that I care about the ambitions or the story only as rather a secondary concern. Chris Chibnall in his latest grand finale is not as recapitulative as his predecessors, despite a few bearded cameos. Nor is he is as philosophical; just sad. Yes, there is the archenemy who steals every scene with dancing and grimaces, there is a lot of epic sci-fi and characteristic family hugging for this era. But there is also a lot of longing and desire for things to be different and not have to end. I have written it several times before, I will write it again: Jodie Whittaker was amazing, underappreciated, and truly heartfelt for me. I don't think she will ever return, but every expression of hers exuded how much she loved her role and how she put everything into it. That's why I shed a few surprised tears at the end of The Power of the Doctor, because even knowing what is coming as the beginning of another chapter, I really didn't want to say goodbye to her.

As the rating shows, the second worst episode of the entire series and by far the most condemned special, which has nothing special about it, nor any justification for why it was released on Easter holidays... but I still have a weakness for it. Perhaps because it is a pirate adventure, of which we can never have enough, perhaps because I enjoyed the fragile rules of this world, perhaps for the humor that is not afraid to ease the tension at a decisive moment. And maybe just because the Sea Devils set sail on my birthday. Something's missing. No ship, Sherlock!

Daleks do not store stuff. It would be more than strange if the concept of a time loop in the Whoniverse was something new. And it's not. Nevertheless, it works as an unexpected refreshment even in minimal space, with a pleasantly rapid pace, a decent amount of plot twists, and above all with the Tardis playing an important role. Even in the claustrophobically evolving plot, the Doctor is a humane motivator who is never far from a kind word, even though this time she is a bit literal about it. Is it a sure bet on the part of the screenplay? Yes. Does it move me? Definitely.

Only in her third year did The Doctor get where the remnants of her fan base wanted her. To my beloved Liverpool! Uhm, I mean... To a real space adventure, stretched out over an entire (albeit short) season. And so, when the sixth episode of Flux is supposed to be about the fate of a huge number of people, races, planets, or galaxies, let it be worth it and let all possible iconic enemies stand up. Maybe it's just a sprawling space opera, but that's exactly what I've been waiting for, and even though it never deviates from genre boundaries this time, I wouldn't trade it for any other. I will always like this hesitant, sensitive, considerate, and doubting heroine, because out of all the well-known regenerations, she is the least childish, carefree, and self-confident, but precisely because of that, in many respects the most considerate and understandable. Even if the legacy of her era is to be just that, it is enough for me to surprisingly be moved to satisfaction.