Rogue Heroes Season 2, on MGM+

Eight decades after WWII, many in the United Kingdom now question why Lt. Col. Robert Blair “Paddy” Mayne never received his nation’s highest military honor, the Victoria Cross (VC), nor has any other member of the Special Air Service (SAS), the commando unit he led throughout North Africa and Italy. In fact, no subsequent SAS commando has received the VC, which is strange, considering their valorous history. The hit show prompting these questions also offers an obvious explanation. The snobby officer class happily let the SAS fight and die on their behalf, but they never considered the highly effective but ill-disciplined unit proper soldiers. The disdain was mutual, at least it is throughout the second season of creator-writer Steven Knight’s Rogue Heroes (a.k.a. SAS Rogue Heroes), still adapted from Ben McIntyre’s nonfiction book, which premieres tomorrow on MGM+.

At the end of season one, Lt. Col. David Sterling, the co-founder of the SAS and then-Major Mayne’s commanding officer had been captured and interned in an Italian POW compound. Consequently, he has far less screentime in season two. However, Mayne more than capably picks up the slack. He also gets a new Sterling, Lt. Col. Bill Sterling, who is much more a proper officer according to the way top brass thinks. Of course, Mayne considers him an aristocratic dilettante. Nevertheless, the new Sterling is a better, more conscientious advocate for the SAS, or the SRS (Special Raiding Service), as they are temporarily renamed, than Mayne realizes.

Regardless, Montgomery and Allied command continues sending the SAS/SRS on foolhardy advance missions, paving the way for the regular army’s Italian invasion, because they keep surviving, killing many Germans and fascists in the process. Given their track record, Eve Mansour, the Algerian-born Free-French spy, who also happened to be David Sterling’s lover, hopes to rendezvous with Paddy Mayne, hoping to support his efforts and possibly glean some intel for De Gaulle regarding the expected invasion of France. Surely, the SAS (as they insist on calling themselves) will be in thick of any such operation.

One way or another, the SAS/SRS keeps rolling, but they are all not completely immune to the horrors of war, just the increasingly in/famous Paddy Mayne, who does not merely laugh in he face of death—he double-dog-dares it. There is no question Mayne is the star of season two and Jack O’Connell runs with it.

Indeed, O’Connell swaggers, snarls, and howls like a champion. You would almost think O’Connell was classically trained, given Mayne commanding bravura poetry recitations—one of the commando officer’s many eccentricities that worries Staff Sgt Jim Almonds, his designated conscience and voice of reason. That is a tough duty to draw.

It is also hard sharing the screen with O’Connell, but Corin Silva and Theo Barklem-Biggs shine developing season two’s other standout characters, Almonds and Sgt. Reg Seekings. Indeed, Barklem-Biggs would generate awards buzz in a more perfect world for the way he portrays Seekings’ PTSD (as we would call it today), as well as his righteous fury at the civilian casualties resulting from the National Socialists’ ruthlessness.

Earth Abides, on MGM+

Considered the granddaddy of environmentally-themed end-of-the-world novels, George R. Stewart’s pandemic epic was also inducted into the libertarian Prometheus Hall of Fame. Yet, it was only previously adapted for the radio (starring John Dehner). Seventy-five years-plus after it was originally published, the doomsday disease scenario obviously lands differently. Regardless, life must go on for the few people still left alive, in creator Todd Komarnicki’s six-episode Earth Abides, which premieres tomorrow on MGM+.

Geologist Ish was on a rock-hunting expedition when he was bitten by a rattlesnake. He partially extracts the venom, but for days, he fitfully slips in and out of consciousness. When he finally comes to, he finds civilization has fallen, much like Rick Grimes in The Walking Dead, or Bill Masen in The Day of the Triffids. (By the way, Ish’s mother named him after Christopher Isherwood, not Ish Kabibble.)

Ish’s first encounter with survivors turns out to be quite depressing. Appropriately, it happens in Las Vegas, stirring up memories of The Stand, which Stephen King readily concedes was partly inspired by Stewart’s novel. Frankly, the scene is so bad, he figures he might as well head home, but on the way, he chances across Lucky, a very good dog, who will be his loyal companion for years.

Next, he comes across Emma, who is special. Like the woman he previously encountered, she also lost a child, but she is mentally stronger. She is also quite resourceful, especially when it comes to hunting and gardening. Since they sort of are the last man and woman in the world, they start building their new family and community in Ish’s San Lupo Drive neighborhood.

Despite Ish’s reservations, Emma leaves instructions for how other survivors might find them—and some do. The first few turn out well, but Charlie and his band of wanderers are a different matter. They charm most of the San Lupo residents, but Ish and the audience can tell Charlie is a vicious sociopath.

Clearly, Komarnicki has had a busy month, considering Earth Abides releases less than two weeks after the opening of Bonhoeffer, which both attest to his interesting taste in source material. Frankly, there are many competing takeaways viewers could glean from his adaptation of Stewart, beyond the environmental implications. Some might see Charlie’s invasion and exploitation of survivor communities as an analogy for either illegal immigration or colonization. However, one thing is undeniably in the world of San Lupo: gun ownership is absolutely necessary for survival.

Throughout the series, Komarnicki and directors Bronwen Hughes, Stephen S. Campanelli (Momentum, Grand Isle), and Rachel Leiterman maintain a good deal of tension, while showing the passage of years and even decades. Komarnicki and his writing team tinker with many of the details of Stewart’s original story, but they stay quite faithful to his original conception of Ish’s character.

The Wonderland Massacre & the Secret History of Hollywood, on MGM+

The 1981 Laurel Canyon quadruple homicides were not quite as personal to Michael Connelly as the Black Dahlia murder was to James Ellroy, but the crimes stuck in his head ever since he covered it as a crime beat reporter. It was just one of those cases that took on a life of its own, because of its scandalous connections to Liberace and adult film “actor” John Holmes. Connelly takes yet another deep dive into the cold case, adapting his podcast for television as the host-narrator and executive producer of The Wonderland Massacre & the Secret History of Hollywood, which premieres Sunday on MGM+.

A few days before the 4^th of July, four people were found brutally bludgeoned to death in a Laurel Canyon home, with a fifth left for dead. Somehow, she survived, but she could never identify her attackers. Given the volume of blood and the number of victims, the police deduced there was more than one killer.

The question of who struck the blows would be contentiously argued in court, but every investigation pointed towards the drug lord, whom some of the residents living at the Wonderland Avenue home had just robbed in a violent home invasion. Eddie Nash (Adel Nasrallah) was a Palestinian immigrant who came to Hollywood to be an actor but only landed a small part on a Cisco Kid episode. Instead, he became arguably the biggest coke dealer in LA, who also owned a series of nightclubs, to facilitate his illicit trade.

In a twist of fate, Liberace wanted to invest in nightclubs, so somehow, he became Nash’s silent partner. His “boy toy” Scott Thorson (played by Matt Damon in the HBO movie) was their go-between. Thorson was also an addict, so he quickly became a customer as well. So was Holmes, but the man considered the inspiration for Dirk Diggler in Boogie Nights also bought from the Wonderland Avenue gang.

The multiple investigations and criminal trials that followed were epic in scope, but tragically ultimate justice was almost completely denied. Connelly and the various investigating officers all agree Thorson and Holmes were both probably compulsive liars, but the recently deceased (as of only last month) Thorson clearly emerges as the more credible witness and the better person. At least he expresses remorse for involvement in the illegal drug trade and he clearly wanted Nash to pay for the Wonderland murders.

Throughout all four episodes, Connelly shows his ease talking and relating to the cops and assistant district attorneys who worked the Wonderland case. It is clear how he developed law enforcement sources while working as a reporter and probably continued to benefit from their expert opinions once he started writing full-time.

Hotel Cocaine, on MGM+

This seriies is a lot like Miami Vice, but the fashions are 1970s polyester, instead of 1980s pastels. The commodity dominating South Florida nightlife is still cocaine and the Mutiny Hotel’s club was the hottest spot around. Roman Compte did not want to get any closer to the drug business than managing the Mutiny, but he gets pulled into a full-fledged drug war in creator-showrunner Chris Brancato’s eight-episode Hotel Cocaine, which premieres Sunday on MGM+.

Compte was born Roman Cabal, but he changed it to break from his brother Nestor Cabal, who controls the coke trade in Miami/Dade County. Instead, as the manager of the Mutiny, he hosts the wildest, drug-fueled hedonism you can find in America. Maybe he should have kept further away from the illicit business, because DEA Agent Zulio decides to make him an informant, to capitalize on his family connections and access to information, whether he likes it or not.

Frankly, even Compte realizes he should have lawyered up when Zulio threatened to take his daughter Valleria away. Instead, he talks his way back into Cabal’s life and business, soon implicating himself in several crimes. He and his family also become targets when a Colombian cartel launches a war against the home-grown Cuban syndicates, like Cabal’s organization.

Zulio just wants to bust Cabal and be done with it, but DC is more concerned about the Colombians’ Communist connections—and they well should. Of course, Latin American Marxist terrorists have always been deeply involved in the narcotics traffic. Castro was too. Of course, Cabal would never agree to a partnership if it enriched Castro. He is a drug kingpin and a killer several times over, but having witnessed Castro’s horrors first-hand, he could never enrich such an oppressive, mass-murdering regime.

Some partisans might be put off by the presence of a corrupt Republican congressman, but Hotel Cocaine is rather astute in its references to Castro’s longtime profitable sponsorship of drug trafficking. Indeed, it will complicate efforts to negotiate a truce between Cabal and the mysterious Yolanda, who is leading the Cartel’s Miami campaign.

There is also a lot of vicarious sin and old school nostalgia for the hard-drinking, hard-partying 1970s in the first seven (out of eight) episodes provided for review. Supposedly, Hotel Cocaine exposes the cost of unchecked vice, but it usually just makes the Mutiny look like a shamelessly fun party.

Even if its moralizing is counter-productive, Hotel Cocaine is well stocked with colorful performances. Michael Chiklis (from The Shield) is no stranger to playing morally compromised cops. Rather intriguingly, his portrayal of Zulio starts out completely reprehensible, but than gets more human and complex in the later episodes.

Beacon 23, on MGM+

In this far-future universe, AI’s have some legal recognition of sentience, so maybe the new actor and screenwriter contracts will be invalidated. Of course, they are still programmed to serve mankind and given Asimov-esque prime directives. Frankly, humanity has more pressing work for them than movie-making, because starvation and strife are strangling the far-flung human colonies. This “space lighthouse” is stationed in a remote corner of the galaxy, but it might be on the frontlines of human evolution and first contact in creator Zak Penn’s Beacon 23, based on the novel by Hugh Howey, which premieres tomorrow on MGM+.

Due to a freak malfunction, Beacon-keeper Solomon Smythe is unable to warn an approaching space cruiser of the dark matter iceberg in its path. Only one soul is saved aboard the life-pod he rescues. As luck would have it, she is Aster Calyx, an operative of the QTA company, dispatched to investigate the mysterious rocks he discovered orbiting the beacon.

Complications soon set in when Bart, the station AI unmasks Smythe as military deserter Halan Kai Nelson, who replaced the real Smythe. Nelson tries to hold Calyx captive, but her personal semi-sentient holographic AI, Harmony, soon has her freed. She and Nelson will have to forge an uneasy truce to defend the station against the pirates (or “wreckers”) we see forcibly entering the station during the first episode’s prologue. Indeed, they seem to have a lot in common when they start to understand how the stones drew them both to Beacon 23.

This is sort of “big dumb object” science fiction, except the “artifact” seems smarter than any of the characters. It is also a lot like Solaris, but with more action (which isn’t hard to accomplish). The AI can also be a bit twitchy, but Bart never goes the full HAL 9000. You might recognize many elements, but Penn and the writers re-assemble them in ways that feel fresh.

The alliance between Calyx and Nelson evolves in a manner that is interesting and credible. Lena Headey and Stephan James develop a nice on-screen rapport that definitely helps the series flow. Yet, some of best episodes are flashbacks to earlier eras on the Beacon. Howey’s source novel is a “fixed-up” of five related short stories, which is reflected in the series. However, in this case, it brings more variety that actually distinguishes Beacon 23 from other recent shows (like The Ark or Silo, also based on a Howey novel). Every major flashback is justified (except maybe the in media res opening), because they establish information and events that will be hugely significant later.

Psycho: The Lost Tapes of Ed Gein

Robert Bloch is overdue for a retrospective film series somewhere, but for now, we’ll just have to keep waiting. At least viewers are reminded Hitchcock’s Psycho was (relatively faithfully) based on Bloch’s novel, which was largely inspired by the case of Ed Gein, a.k.a. “The Plainfield Ghoul.” Gein is considered the first modern American serial killer, even though he was only directly connected to two murders. For the first time ever, several forensic experts (and a few podcasters) finally hear Gein’s own voice on newly discovered police recordings in the four-part documentary special Psycho: The Lost Tapes of Ed Gein, directed by James Buddy Day, which premieres tomorrow on MGM+.

In 1957, the crimes Gein committed were truly shocking. Even in the jaded 2023 of today, they are still plenty disturbing, but we have been somewhat conditioned to their nature, by the movies he inspired. Psycho and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre were directly modeled on Gein and there is a little bit of him in Hannibal Lecter too.

Consequently, you might be able to imagine some of the horror investigators found at the Gein house. They were there because of his impulsive and not well-thought-out murder of Bernice Worden. What they found was a horror show of body parts, either strewn about his apartment and as well as housewares and clothing crafted out of skin and body parts. However, most of gruesome materials were plundered from the local cemetery. In fact, several of the talking heads understandably make a big deal that there was never a proper accounting of what Gein took from where.

Frankly, Gein’s voice on the titular long-lost tapes is rather underwhelming, in a maybe predictably banal way. Arguably, it is more interesting listening to his primary interviewer, Judge Boyd Clark, a nearby authority figure, who happened to own a portable tape-recorder. As a jurist, he might have found his questions to be leading. On the other hand, he remains remarkably calm, despite the absolutely ghastly circumstances, drawing out Gein to a surprising extent.

The empathy and respect for the victims expressed by several contemporary forensic experts and Gein biographers is also quite notable. In an awkward contrast, the jokey banter of the “Last Podcast on the Left” true crime bros often feels inappropriate. Generally speaking, the dramatic recreations are competent and sometimes evocative, with relatively little tackiness. However, some of the ironic archival stock footage incorporated to make the 1950s look silly and sinister reflects a questionable bias. We remember Gein because he was the first and a shocking anomaly. When someone commits similar crimes today, they barely rate a Dateline special, so let’s stop pretending the 1950s were an era of terrifying violence.

Amityville: An Origin Story, on MGM+

The realtor did indeed disclose the brutal mass murder of the DeFeo family at 112 Ocean Avenue, but like all good New Yorkers, the Lutz Family bought it anyway, because it was a whole lot of house, for not a lot of money. It is hard to blame them—it had water access and a boathouse. Of course, their experiences there became the stuff of a best-selling book and a horror franchise. It even had its own episode of In Search Of…, which covered the case much more economically than the four-part documentary, Amityville: An Origin Story, directed by Jack Riccobono, but the first episode is still pretty creepy when it premieres Sunday on MGM+.

Several years ago, Daniel Lutz, the oldest son of Kathleen Lutz and stepfather George Lutz, told his story in My Amityville Horror. This time around, their middle child, now known as Christopher Quarantino tells the tale from his perspective. The first episode does not even get into the notorious “Red Room,” but it touches the flies, the cold spots, the ill-fated attempts at blessings, and the previous DeFeo murders. Much of the notoriety surrounding the house overlooks the very real true crime tragedy that occurred there. Origin Story does not fully do it justice yet, at least not in the first installment.

It also rather unflatteringly portrays the parish priest, Father Pecoraro, blaming him for not being more proactive exorcising whatever demons haunted the property. As an interesting counterpoint, the In Search Of episode somewhat defends Father Pecoraro (who appeared in silhouetted interview segments), suggesting supernatural forces prevented the Lutz family’s further attempts to communicate with him.

The Portable Door, on MGM+

Paul Carpenter and Sophie Pettingel are too old for Hogwarts. At this point, they are mostly kind of adults. Fortunately, the J.W. Wells & Co offers a sort of magical management training program. The tweedy firm administers fateful coincidences and serendipity, for a fee, but it takes Carpenter a few beats to figure that out. He was only hired thanks to providential happenstance and dumb luck. Nevertheless, he must navigate the company’s magical intrigues in Jeffrey Walker’s The Portable Door, based on Tom Holt’s YA novel, which premieres Saturday on MGM+.

Carpenter needs a job, any job, so when an odd chain of events leads him away from a barista interview to the mysterious Wells Company, he goes ahead and applies for the open position they have posted. The new CEO, Humphrey Wells seems to give Carpenter’s explanation more credence than the rest of the board interviewing him, but sure enough, he lands the paid internship.

Initially, he gets the cold shoulder from his officemate, Pettingel. She is on the management training fast track, because she is an actual seer. Carpenter isn’t sure what his place in the fantastical company could be, but Wells (who just succeeded his missing father) is convinced he has divination powers that can find the Portable Door, a magical portal device that theoretically takes users anywhere they want to go. However, in practice, the door can be a bit unpredictable.

Co-produced by the Jim Henson Company, Portable Door is an upbeat fantasy with a lot of visually distinctive world-building. The creature creations are as charming as you would expect from the Henson team (including goblins and baby dragons), but the target audience definitely skews young. The energy is high throughout the film, but not so much the intensity level.

Murf the Surf, on MGM+

The great controversy of Jack Roland Murphy’s life remains whether his prison conversion to Christianity was legitimate or opportunistic. Documentary filmmaker R.J. Cutler fully explores that question, but ignores the second lingering debate surrounding Murphy: should his nickname be spelled “Murf the Surf” or “Murph the Surf.” Either way, he led a colorful life and largely succeeded reinventing himself on multiple occasions. Cutler documents his life and crimes in the four-part Murf the Surf: Jewels, Jesus and Mayhem in the USA (with an “f,” but troublingly, no Oxford comma), which premieres tomorrow on MGM+.

Murphy was the ultimate Florida criminal of his time, who probably helped pave the way for Miami Vice and Carl Hiaasen novels. He was a champion surfer (eventually inducted into the Hall of Fame), who developed a lucrative side-gig as a jewel thief (which quickly became his main line of work). He and his buddy pulled off the infamous theft of the Star of India from the American Museum of Natural History, more or less as an improvised lark. When they were arrested for the crime, their good looks and cool demeanor made them media sensations.

The Star of India heist was later dramatized in the 1975 movie Murph the Surf (with a “p” and “h”), which Cutler and company scrupulously ignore. (It obviously could not encompass Murphy’s second act conversion, but Phillip Lambro’s jazzy soundtrack, featuring Bud Shank and Buddy Collette, grooves nicely.) It is rather convenient to end Murphy’s story when it did, but the truth is, he found himself serving a life-sentence for murder. According to the jury, Murphy and his accomplice Jack Griffith viciously killed Annelie Mohn and Terry Rae Frank in what became known as the infamous “Whiskey Creek Murders,” because they threatened to expose a stolen securities racket they were all involved in.

That temporarily put a damper on Murf/ph’s legend, but he managed to reinvent himself as a prison convert and outreach minister. It will surely be “triggering” for a lot of insecure people to see Rev. Pat Robertson show up in the docu-series, but like him or hate him, he really did do a lot of prison ministering. Maybe he was taken in by Murphy, or maybe not, but Robertson was one of many faith leaders whose testimonials helped Murf secure an early parole.