Long Bright River is a compact, delicate, and gut-wrenching limited series grounded by Amanda Seyfried's arresting performance. Read our review.
Crime thrillers have graced our television screens almost as long as television itself has existed. Whether it's emotionally tormented detectives rooting out evildoers in grimy urban cities or preternaturally insightful investigators sniffing around cozy, quirky English villages, the crime genre — both procedural and narrative-driven — has evolved into one of the most reliable options for studios to produce and a fictional category always ripe for reinvention. Yet despite the genre's oddly comforting draw, too few series have dared to interrogate widespread police corruption, especially its inescapably dangerous prevalence within the United States. Fewer still commit to humanizing some of the underrepresented and misunderstood minority groups deliberately forgotten by law enforcement and politicians alike: sex workers, unhoused individuals, working-class families, people struggling with substance abuse, and young, impressionable girls who are vulnerable to predators wearing the uniform of a protector.
