We slogged through this out of loyalty and affection for the book, and disbelief that it could have yielded such a terrible adaptation. But despite the charm of Ian McShane and the try-hard effort from Ricky Whittle, this thing was DOA and somehow got worse with each passing episode.
Imagine, if you will, a middle-schooler raised in a basement on only Tim Burton and Zach Snyder, then given complete control over a TV show with the caveat being that it must be infinitely long, despite the brevity of the source material. Voilà!
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