Netflix and Chill: Ghosts of Cite Soleil.

When one door closes, another one opens. All the doors are closed for me.

I will watch anything that is true crime, even more so if there is actual footage and not just re-enactments. and so when this was recommended to me by Netflix I immediately added it to my list. Even before I pressed play I just knew I would enjoy it, and I did.

It reminded me of the Brazilian Epic film City of God which is one of the most memorable films ever. Set in Cite Soleil, a slum in Haiti once referred to as the most dangerous place on earth, the documentary chronicles the lives of gangsters known as Chiméres (ghosts/fire breathing dragons) who serve as the Secret army of President Jean-Bertrand Aristide. In particular, the story follows two of the gang chiefs, brothers Winston “2pac” Jean, and James “Bily” Petit-Frere for a few months in 2004 around the time Aristide is overthrown. 2pac is the older of the two, and unsurprisingly wants to become a rapper; his little brother Bily has more grandiose dreams of joining the ruling party and becoming president one day. They are all servants of Aristide, a bug eyed accountant looking man who does not blink. 2pac has spent two years in Prison during which he lost all illusions about Aristide’s government. Bily is still a devoted believer in Aristide. This, amongst other things, leads to tensions between the brothers.

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Netflix and Crime: The Serpent

Years ago, during my routine mindless scrolling of YouTube, I came across some AP Archive videos of a man called Charles Sobhraj. I am eternally fascinated by the past, particularly crimes done in the past, so I mindlessly watched a couple videos before moving on and subsequently erasing Sobhraj from memory. Then Netflix came along and jogged my memory.

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Netflix and Crime: Killer Ratings

Netflix has been so good to me lately; by good I mean Netflix UK has offloaded a bunch of crime content not just from the USA as usual but around the world, particularly Brazil; by lately I mean in the past month which is when I started writing this post.

The first of this new batch of content that I watched is Killer Ratings. The tagline/synopsis whatever was all it took to draw me in and I was hooked from start to finish. “The true-life story of Brazilian TV host Wallace Souza, who was accused of literally killing for ratings, and using his crime TV show to cover up the grizzly truth.” How could I not watch it?

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Netflix and Chill: Serial Killer edition

Like every normal person, I am fascinated by serial killers. Repulsed by their crimes, angered by their audacity, and yes, fascinated by the psychology of these outwardly normal beings who set off on random violent streaks with no care, reason or remorse. I have always enjoyed watching the crime network on cable, it was one of the first adult things I started to watch just as I weaned myself off cartoons and childish telly. My first real introduction to serial killers was through a book in my father’s library- I don’t remember the title but it was about the most famous serial killers in the world, from Jack the Ripper to the acid bath murderer to Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer. I remember discovering the book on a Sunday, and taking it to church with me, reading it all through Sunday school. My fascination was born.

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Wild wild country

I wasn’t going to watch this. I fell foul of the aged saying; do not judge a series by its thumbnail. For some reason I assumed it was one of those hippie fake deep-actually to be honest I wasn’t sure what to expect but I thought I wasn’t going to like it. As I was getting ready to skip past it I caught a glimpse of the synopsis and it included something about Rolls Royces; “… the world’s biggest collection of Rolls-Royce automobiles“. The first 3 seconds of the preview also looked interesting, so ever the curious cat I decided to see what it looked like.

Wild Wild Country is a documentary about the controversial Rajeeneshpuram community in Oregon, led by an Indian spiritual guru- Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (later to be known as Osho) and his firebrand personal secretary Ma Anand Sheela who had been with the Bhagwan since she was a teen. The movement starts in India, with the Bhagwan preaching about capitalism and meditation and previously being asleep and now being awake (he was woke before woke was a thing). He gains a lot of followers and it is not long before well off Westerners in search of “the truth” start moving to India to join his cult group. Eventually the community becomes so large and they face political resistance in India so off to the USA they go. The move is spearheaded by Ma Anand Sheela who the Bhagwan has given absolute power of attorney and is in charge of the community’s millions.

In the USA they settle in the sleepy town of Antelope Oregon, home to about 40 elderly retirees, and almost immediately the tension starts. Unsurprisingly, the residents of Antelope are not pleased to have these weird, raucous, free loving, sex-in-public having members of this strange religion led by an odd man with long beard and multiple rolls royces. The group moved to Oregon in 1981, and within four years the tension boiled over and exploded into chaos. There is arson, explosions, biological warfare, assassination attempts, and a whole host of mayhem.

Only a few minutes into episode one, I realised I was familiar with the subject. I had watched an episode of Forensic Files which covered the Rajneeshes and their poisoning of hundreds of people in the community. The documentary was more detailed and offered more about the background of the cult so I continued to watch it, all the time assuming that the poisoning was the crux of the show. After the second episode, I thought the show was dragging on too long; get to the salmonella poisoning already! It turns out the salmonella poisoning was barely the tip of the iceberg and it was only referred to in bits because other crazy shit was going on.

I thoroughly enjoyed the series and I’m pleased I watched it. The build up was great and by the end of the third episode I was fully hooked, hanging on every word. Wild Wild Country takes us back to the heat of the action in the 80s, and the footage of the cult, interviews as well as interviews with the key players of the cult as they are now made it feel as though we were there in real time. I can only imagine the tensions as they happened, and how insane it would have been if there was social media then. I went through a gamut of emotions; the usual irritation and condescension for people who join cults, anger at their bizarre behaviour, sympathy with the non-Rajneesh community, fascination at how the Rajneeshes were able to build a community and amass all the wealth- they had airplanes, tens of rolls royces, 80,000 acres of land which they fully developed- and even sadness towards the end. It was a trip.

I was quite confused with all the geography of the area and all the names- The Dalles, Antelope, Wasco County; all I know is that this story happened in Oregon. The cult leaders also deserved more punishment for their crimes, they poisoned 751 people for goodness sake! But that’s all in the past now.

The documentary mainly focuses on the tensions between the Rajneeshes and the rest of the community, but I would have liked more depth into the Rajneesh community itself-their day to day, what really happened, was it all an elaborate scam from the beginning, why did the Bhagwan need 80 or so rolls royces? I want to know more. I also want to understand the psychology of these seemingly intelligent well to do people who left everything to join this cult. I understand that we are always in search of the truth, and being an adult is exhausting, but it is still a stretch to travel across the world to live in a commune. There were times in the documentary where I thought the Rajneeshes looked really happy with their lives and hmmn maybe they should have just been left alone. But a few minutes later they would do some fucked up shit and I’m back to disliking them.

Some of the Rajneeshes interviewed for the documentary still speak really fondly of the Bhagwan and their time in the community, even Ma Anand Sheela who fell out with the Bhagwan still seemed enthralled by him. It bordered on ridiculousness. Not everyone feels this way. One high ranking member of the community turned state witness against the community and had to go into witness protection. Another high ranking member wrote a book about how she slowly freed herself from the clutches of the cult. In the book she alludes to her children having suffered sexual abuse, and her regret over the trauma she caused. This was something I wondered while watching the documentary; while these adults were out swapping partners and having sex in the open, who was watching the children?

All in all, it’s a good show and I’m glad I watched it. I do enjoy a good documentary. There is a new Netflix show called Searching for Sheela, which follows Ma Anand Sheela as she returns to India for the first time in 35 years. It is barely an hour long and adds absolutely nothing to our knowledge of the commune.


I desire nothing more than a deep restful sleep.

Writing aside, the one thing I always want to do is sleep. I crave the feeling of burrowing deep into a thick blanket on a rainy day, with nothing to do but relax. Yet, just like writing, I hardly indulge myself with a good night’s rest. Even on weekends and holidays I am up as early as possible to tackle the day’s tasks of staring at my phone for hours straight, then taking a break to stare at my television for the rest of the day. I find it difficult to do the more productive things like writing, reading, pondering my life’s existence; all I do is stare at a screen.

Thankfully, everyone in the world is going through the same thing. The netizens have come up with a term for this: Revenge Bedtime Procrastination ‘bàofùxìng áoyè’ as the Chinese refer to it. This term describes how people who do not have much control over their lives and schedules during the day refuse to go to sleep so as to gain some sense of control and freedom at night. I definitely understand this. I have a poster in my room which boldly shouts “Stop waiting for Friday!” which is really easier said than done. I work all day and all week, and when I get off work I just want to do whatever. The problem is that I am sacrificing sleep for temporary pleasure, and it is getting harder to ignore the negative effects. I deleted Instagram for Lent, and before I did I would spend hours, way past my bed time, mindlessly scrolling through pointless posts on the explore page. Did I really need to go down the rabbit hole of what celebrity is sleeping with who? Did I care about the pointless e-fight between people I don’t know? Animal videos, tik-toks, every damn thing. I would lay in bed with my eyes burning and yet I could not tear my eyes away and go to sleep. The effect of this is that I was often tired and forgetful. I never truly felt rested, and would wake up tired. I would chastise myself for wasting all that time that I could have spent sleeping, but yet when nighttime came I would do it all over again. I deleted Instagram but quickly replaced it with YouTube, watching tens of videos each day, wildly swinging from broody hens to notable dictators to my favourite crime videos.

I recently saw a video about the importance of getting adequate sleep and how detrimental less than 7.5 hours of restful sleep is to our health. Of course I already knew this, but still I spent the time watching it on YouTube after getting a good 5 hours of sleep. The interesting thing was the roles phones, laptops et al play in our raggedy sleep schedules. The blue light emitted from the screens increase cortisol which makes it difficult for us to go to sleep. Again I know this and I always promise myself that I will put away from my electronics an hour before bedtime and I almost never do.

Not to keep banging on about loneliness, but this is yet another way loneliness shows up in my life. Years of living alone with no one to have a regular conversation with has made me deeply addicted to my phone. Most days, the only voices I hear are from my phone or telly. Tragic. If I had regular human contact with people I actually care to talk to, I reckon I would be less dependent on my phone. A couple of weeks back I kept my telly off the whole weekend and read a book instead. At first I was racing through the book so I could turn on the TV and faff around, but as time went on I decided to not watch tv until I was done with the book. I thought to myself “The TV and the shows in it are not going anywhere! Just take a break and relax.” It was actually weird to see how dependent I am, like a child with no self control. I did take some YouTube breaks to reward myself for reaching milestone pages, but still it felt good to do something else with my time (and my eyes were thankful for that).

I am not going to end this with another nonsensical declaration about how I will throw my phones away and sleep more, because I probably won’t. I will try though, because it will be sad when this pandemic is over and we are all back to commuting and I realise I did not take advantage of my time at home by sleeping enough. On Sunday, after spending the whole of Saturday on YouTube, I woke up early as usual, quickly perused YT and forced myself to go back to sleep for a few more hours. It felt good.

The takeaway is this; binging on YouTube is as terrible as my sugar binges. The videos and shows will still be there, and I need to pace myself. Sleep tight!

Malcolm and Marie.

Sometime last year the news filtered in that Zendaya and John D Washington had made a film during the pandemic, and to this I thought so what?  Then the trailer came out, and though I avoided it like I always do, I heard that there are only two characters in the film and that piqued my interest. Plus it was to be released on Netflix so of course I had to watch it, and I did watch it the first chance I got.

The film is about a film-maker Malcolm, and his girlfriend Marie; and it opens up as the couple return home from the premiere of Malcolm’s movie. Marie is obviously in an unpleasant mood while Malcolm is on a high from his night and he eagerly anticipates the forthcoming reviews. Though she is not happy, Marie takes the time to make him some Kraft’s mac and cheese which he devours like a maniac. Eventually the reason for Marie’s foul mood is revealed- Malcolm did not thank or even acknowledge her in his speech at the premiere, and this is the focal point of the whole film, a thorn that keeps popping up despite all the efforts to push it down.

The film is one long exhausting argument, in which the couple go back and forth throwing barbs at each other. Marie believes the film is based on her life-an ex drug addict, while Malcolm dismisses her claims in an infamous bathroom scene during which he disparages her as he lists all the women he has been with and who collectively inspired the character in his film. Throughout this spiel, Marie remains emotionless in the tub, and this is perhaps Zendaya’s best acting of the whole film.

Another thing that happens is a spectacular rant by Malcolm over a review from the “White female critic at the LA Times”. Even before the review was in, he already had his misgivings about the critic and how she was going to politicise the film simply because he is black, and so are the characters in the film. The review comes in and it is positive, but that does not stop Mr. Malcolm from ranting about it for minutes on end, while a weary Marie lay on the couch in her underwear.  It is glaring that the screenwriter/director, Sam Levinson, used the Malcolm character to express his personal feelings about critics and race. I could be wrong.

Just when the viewer thinks the issues are settled and the couple have made up, the fight starts again. This time Marie wants to know when Malcolm did not cast her in his film, given that she is/was an actress. This opens up another long winded argument in which Marie picks up a knife and…. you can find that out yourself. That particular scene got my attention but it could have been executed better- Zendaya tried her best but it was not enough.

The couple go to sleep, no doubt exhausted from all the fighting (I was exhausted just watching), and the film ends the next morning with no clue as to the status of their relationship.

This film has generated mixed reviews; there are those who think it is the best thing since the invention of film, and there are others who couldn’t get past the first twenty minutes. Both opinions are valid and I can see why each side would feel that way. For me personally what I distinctly remember was constantly checking how much time was left, and sighing in exasperation when I found out there was still a bit left. The Vulture called the film a failure on every level and I don’t agree with that. To paraphrase Ms. Aretha Franklin-there were beautiful gowns. The film was visually stunning, and the concept was interesting, but it could have been better done. I liked the architecture of the couple’s house, although I am way too paranoid to live in the woods. I didn’t really have a problem with the acting, though I felt at times that Zendaya was struggling to capture the required emotions.

Not to rag on Zendaya, but another thing that made the film uncomfortable was how young and juvenile she looked, and this posed a sharp contrast to Malcolm’s older mature character. Perhaps this was the intention; to show that Malcolm, an older man, took advantage of the young drug addicted woman. Marie seemed mentally exhausted and this could be because she was a young naive woman trying to keep up with the wily antics of a more mature man (Malcolm is only in his thirties but the contrast is a lot).  I also did not like how she was in a state of undress at certain points of the film while Malcom remained fully clothed. It is common in Hollywood for women to be naked next to fully clothed men and I always find it weird.

A few people have compared this film (quite unfavourably, I might add) to Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, a 1966 film featuring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. I had heard of this film in passing but finally sought it out after watching Malcolm and Marie. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? follows Martha and George, an angry bored couple who constantly belittle and antagonise each other.  They invite another couple over and proceed to make them super uncomfortable the whole time. There are four characters in this film, to M&M’s two, but the concept is similar. I agree with those who say that the Taylor-Burton version was far better; I enjoyed the acting and the screenplay better, and  Sandy Dennis gave a great performance in the film.

Malcolm and Marie is not a theatrical breakthrough, but it is not a failure either. It really boils down to taste, and individual willingness to watch people argue for nearly two hours. A part of me wants to rewatch it during the day to see if perhaps I was too sleepy the first time. A part of me thinks I have seen enough.

To conclude, it may interest you to know that Netflix paid $30m for this film. Now you know why they keep increasing their prices.


Even though I am working through a backlog of shows/films on my watchlist, I am still constantly perusing Netflix for the next thing to watch. I do have a fondness for interesting foreign shows so when my sister suggested I watch LUPIN, a new French crime thriller, I said pourquoi pas? and immediately went to watch it.

Lupin is a Netflix original which follows the adventures of Assane Diop, the French son of a Senegalese immigrant, in his quest to avenge an injustice meted out to his father by his wealthy employers. Assane is inspired by Arsene Lupin, a fictional character who is apparently France’s answer to James Bond meets Sherlock Holmes. The show opens with Assane’s plan to steal Marie Antoinette’s necklace during an auction at the Louvre. This plan is outlandish enough and I assumed that is what the whole show would be about (a la Money Heist) but that is just one of the many rungs in his ladder of revenge (whatever this means).

If I had to sum up Lupin in one word, it is “unrealistic“. Arsene Lupin is described as a gentleman thief and master of disguise and Assane is portrayed as the same. Assane Diop is a 6’2 (at least), well built Black Frenchman with strong prominent features; this is not a bland man that blends into the crowd, rather he stands out anywhere, possibly even in Senegal but I assume especially in France. So presenting him as a master of disguise was frankly unrealistic, but that is what the show keeps telling us. His disguise mostly consisted of him removing his suit and putting on glasses which for some reason had the entire police force stumped. It reminds me of playing peekaboo with a child, and the child thinks you have disappeared simply because you covered your face. The chief police office, who saw Assane up close at the Louvre and shook hands with him, now doesn’t recognise him because he is wearing a beanie. Ridiculous. The stunts are also childish and meant for an age pre DNA, security cameras, and social media, which is when the books were written. All in all, there are plot-holes and everything is set up for Assane to succeed.

I also have a problem with shows in which a person is presented as the best at something, but the viewer is always been told this rather than being shown. There was a point in the show where Assane has enough evidence to destroy the family but rather than just release it he decides to play a silly game which of course doesn’t end well. It reminds me of that silly show Revenge in which the main character had a suitcase of evidence to exonerate her father with but instead spent the whole season doing nonsense. Just get it over with.

However once the viewer had suspended their belief to an extent, and accepted a degree of implausibility, the show becomes quite enjoyable to watch. It has been quite successful globally, and is the first French show to enter the US top ten (I think it even went to number one). A lot of people love it and don’t have my reservations, so this may just be a personal thing. Some people have complained about how bad the English dub is, but I watched it in French with subtitles on which is how I watch my shows and thankfully my Netflix automatically does this.

Another slight issue I have with the show is the diversity. Assane Diop is the main character, and apart from another Black man who appears towards the end, he is the only Black person. Now I find this weird. Sure, his parents immigrated from Senegal and are both dead, but is it really realistic that this Black first generation French man does not have any other Black people close to him? It’s like he was just dropped into this world, and I wonder if that is possible. A lot of these things are written by White people for White people and that is perfectly fine. It seems in the quest to appear diverse, they end up creating somewhat unrealistic worlds (to me anyway). I once saw a west end stage production of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, and one of the brothers was played by a Black actor. The actor’s race was not relevant to the script and did nothing to take away from the play; there was a character and it just happened to be played by a man who is Black. However a core part of Lupin is the racial aspect, and race is referred to multiple times throughout the show so this isn’t a case of oh we just happened to cast a Black man for the lead. I see the same thing on TV when diversity is simply ensuring every commercial has an interracial couple. It is comical.

At the moment there are just five 45 minute episodes on Netflix, and this was part of what made me watch it as I thought it was something I could watch in one go. It actually took me a week and I was disappointed to find out that that was just the first drop. There are more episodes and more seasons coming out, and I will be watching them. I will also be checking out the lead actor Omar Sy in some of his other notable projects, starting with Intouchables which won him a Cesar (French version of the Oscars).

The Three Deaths of Marisela Escobedo.

“Ten women are killed everyday in Mexico and 97% of femicides are never solved.”

I was interested in the show because I will give every true crime documentary a go, and also the name sounded intriguing. Las Tres Muertes de Marisela Escobedo or The Three Deaths of Marisela Escobedo is a Mexican documentary about Marisela Escobedo’s tireless quest for justice after her 16 year old daughter Rubi is murdered by her (Rubi) boyfriend and father of her child.

Rubi is only thirteen when she starts dating 20 year old Sergio Rafael. Right off this is disturbing. The mother tries and fails to get a police report and claims she had to accept the relationship out of fear of losing her daughter. Unsurprisingly, Rubi falls pregnant a couple years into this “relationship” and gives birth to a daughter. Then one day Rubi is gone leaving her baby behind and no one knows where she is. It takes a lot of effort from her family to uncover the truth- she was murdered by Sergio after attempting to leave him. This was the first death.

Sergio confesses to the crime, leads the police to her body, and even apologises in court, which is what makes it all the more surprising when he is unanimously acquitted of the crime by all three judges. This was the second death.

The acquittal made absolutely no sense, and I stared at my telly with my mouth open in stupefaction. I wondered if Sergio had some political connections but no he just had some incompetent judges. The idiot judges claimed that despite his confession, the prosecution did not prove Sergio’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. A distraught Marisela refuses to accept this verdict, and immediately returns to her protests, going all over the country in her unrelenting quest for justice for her daughter. By this time Sergio has joined a cartel and is now under their protection, which makes Marisela’s mission even more treacherous. However this does not deter her and she continues to call out everyone from Sergio to the government.

Unfortunately Marisela’s will and strength is not enough. A few days before Christmas, she is shot dead while camping out in front of the government palace. This is the third death.

At this point I was in tears. It is highly frustrating and disturbing to see the level of injustice and unfairness meted out to Marisela and her family. Is it really too much to ask that a murderer who confesses to a murder be punished for said murder? It was ridiculous enough that Marisela had to go to such lengths for justice but it was depressing that she couldn’t even get that. Seeing Marisela shot in the street was the final straw.

I felt the same anger and helplessness that I felt reading about Trujillo’s reign of terror in the Dominican Republic as written in Juniot Diaz’s book The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. I can imagine how helpless Marisela must have felt fighting the government and cartel. It is the same helplessness people all over the world have felt for ages, but most particularly in this glorious year twenty twenty. The world is always in a state of unrest but this year has been a rollercoaster of non-stop foolishness and chaos. In particular, the past few weeks have been hectic for Nigerians who are fighting against police brutality, only to have the government order the military to gun down unarmed protesters. For decades Nigerians have endured corruption and nonsense from the government, and every time we rise up we are immediately cut down. It is frustrating to feel so helpless.

Fear and helplessness are two of the worst things to feel. Those in charge thrive on the fear to keep people in check, and when people try to revolt their efforts are thwarted thus fueling the feeling of helplessness.

This is the same helplessness women across the world feel; it does feel that we are prey who always have to be on guard from the predators lest we be attacked in any one of the thousand of ways. It is so sad to see that despite what little progress we seem to have made in some areas, an overwhelming amount of women are still at risk every day, and most will never truly get any justice. The feeling that you can be kidnapped, raped, murdered without any repercussions is wild! The fact that some people have the power to do whatever they want without any fear of consequences is infuriating.

Sergio is eventually killed in a shootout with soldiers, and a man who claimed to have killed Marisela dies in prison, but it does not feel that justice was ever served for Rubi and Marisela. There is no happy ending here, and the documentary reminds us there is still a long way to go for women in all parts of the world. Rubi and Marisela are just two of the many women in Mexico who will never get justice, and let’s not get started on the rest of the world.

Whew. I had managed to hold it together (barely) but this documentary made me come undone. I am exhausted. I do not feel optimistic at all; the fear and helplessness is overwhelming. I am exhausted and I just want to lie still in a dark room while everything sorts itself out.

Netflix and Chill #3: Ratched (2020).

Off the bat I knew I was going to like Ratched. I like American Horror Story, and have liked it since the very first season. I also enjoy Ryan Murphy’s stuff (well AHS and Scream Queens), and seeing familiar faces such as Sarah Paulson and Finn Wittrock, plus the fact that it was set in 1947 made it all the more appealing.

The shows opens up with the murder of four priests by lonely boy Edmund Tolleson, a clearly unstable orphan. He is arrested and shipped off to Lucia State Hospital for the mentally unwell to be evaluated on whether or not he is fit for trial and consequently fit for execution. This is where Mildred Ratched shows up. She is a mysterious character who shows up at Lucia, determined to get employment as a nurse. Even though she is told by the director of Lucia (Dr Richard Hanover) that there is no vacancy, she manages to force herself in. It is soon revealed that Tolleson is Ratched’s brother and she is on a mission to save him from execution

Dr. Richard Hanover is a frazzled doctor who has high dreams of revolutionising mental health treatment, beginning with lobotomies (not for the squeamish-there is a hammer and ice pick involved) to hydrotherapy (boiling the patient at 117 degree celsius for 20 minutes then dunking them in ice). Lucia is in dire need of funding and he is under pressure to declare Tolleson fit for trial so as to please the hard on crime governor who is seeking reelection. But there is also something else he is running away from, and is Richard Hanover even his real name?

Mildred is cool under pressure, her mind quick and devious, and she soon has Hanover under her thumb. She loves her brother, and finds herself caught up in so many schemes in her quest to liberate him. Through flashbacks and a clever puppet show scene, the viewers are let into their tragic childhoods as they are shuttled from one foster home to the other, each more abusive the previous. They are separated after an incident at the last foster home, and Mildred dedicates her life to finding and helping her brother. However, by the end of the final episode, Mildred finds herself the hunted, and by none other than the one she was trying to free.

Ratched is as gruesome as one might expect, but there is so much more. There is fashion dah-ling, there’s love- misguided and otherwise, vengeance, and quite a few interesting characters. Sophie Okonedo gives an outstanding performance as a woman with Multiple Personality Disorder. Jon Jon Briones plays Dr. Hanover, a role he executes well.

I was hoping Ratchet would be a one season show-wham bam thanks for watching, but it ended on a cliffhanger so there is bound to be another season. A quick google search suggests there might be even more. I enjoyed watching season one, but I am not sure if it will sustain my attention beyond this. Only time will tell.

Fun fact: Nurse Ratched is named after a character in Ken Kessey’s famous 1962 book- One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I have not read it yet but now I want to.