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The Hidden Hand Has an App Now: Congratulations, We’re All in the Conspiracy

Apparently the secret cabal has pivoted to AI, subscriptions and accepting cookies.

I miss old conspiracies.

I really do.

They had craftsmanship.

There was always a dimly lit room underneath a Swiss bank where twelve sinister men wearing identical robes gathered around a mahogany table and decided the price of wheat.

Nobody knew who they were.

Nobody knew how they got there.

Presumably there was parking.

That was the Hidden Hand.

Elegant.

Mysterious.

Organized.

Today?

The Hidden Hand sends you a push notification.

“We noticed you were looking at patio furniture.”

I WAS NOT.

“Would you like to enable precise location?”

ABSOLUTELY NOT.

“Your privacy is important to us.”

THEN WHY DO YOU KNOW I’M IN THE BATHROOM?

Welcome to 2026, everybody.

The conspiracy doesn’t need to hide anymore.

We clicked “Accept All.”

The Secret Society Has Been Replaced by the Terms of Service

This is what fascinates me about the times we’re living through.

For generations, people imagined powerful secret organizations quietly manipulating the world behind the scenes.

The Mafia.

Secret societies.

Intelligence agencies.

Corporate cartels.

Shadow governments.

Guys named Sal who knew a guy who knew another guy named Sal.

There was always supposed to be some enormous invisible machine operating behind everyday life.

Now we have created actual invisible machines operating behind everyday life, and instead of screaming:

“WHO CONTROLS THIS?”

we say:

“Wow, Spotify really knows me.”

Your phone knows where you’ve been.

Your streaming service knows what you watch.

Your supermarket app knows what you buy.

Your social network knows what makes you angry.

Your credit card company knows you’re apparently incapable of walking past a Five Guys.

And now we’re putting cameras and artificial intelligence into our eyeglasses.

Finally.

Because the one major flaw with human eyeballs was that they weren’t collecting enough data.

We’re Putting the Wiretap on Our Own Faces

Smart glasses are one of the great inventions of our time because humanity looked at the smartphone — a device containing our location, photographs, conversations, financial information and virtually every person we’ve ever met — and said:

“Can we put this on my forehead?”

Companies are now developing AI-powered wearables that can see, hear and interpret the world around us.

This has produced a surprising development.

People are concerned about privacy.

Really?

Now?

We’ve spent twenty years carrying microphones everywhere, photographing our food and telling strangers exactly where we’re vacationing.

Suddenly somebody puts the camera in a pair of Ray-Bans and we’re all:

“WAIT A MINUTE. WHO’S WATCHING US?”

You are.

You’re watching you.

You’re wearing the surveillance equipment.

The Illuminati didn’t even have to install it.

They gave you free shipping.

Organized Crime Must Be Furious

This is where writing about organized crime gets especially interesting.

Because old-school organized crime required an incredible amount of effort.

You needed crews.

Drivers.

Lookouts.

Accountants.

Front businesses.

Guys standing outside social clubs doing absolutely nothing for eight consecutive hours.

There were envelopes.

Meetings.

Codes.

Pay phones.

Trunks.

So many trunks.

Watch The Sopranos and you’ll know what I’m getting at.

The modern world has streamlined everything.

In 2026, criminals are targeting things like AI hardware because apparently even organized crime has undergone digital transformation.

Imagine explaining that to a gangster in 1957.

“So what are we hijacking?”

“Computer chips.”

“What’s in them?”

“Artificial intelligence.”

“Can we sell it?”

“Overseas.”

“To who?”

“We don’t know.”

“Good. I was worried this was going to get complicated.”

Somewhere, an elderly mobster is shaking his head.

“In my day we stole televisions. You could WATCH the television.”

Even Shopping Is Becoming Too Complicated to Do Ourselves

Artificial intelligence can increasingly help people research products and, in some systems, potentially carry out purchases.

Which raises an important question:

How exhausted have we become that we need to outsource shopping?

Shopping was already the easiest human activity.

Step one: Want thing.

Step two: Buy thing.

We have now apparently reached:

Step one: Want thing.

Step two: Tell artificial intelligence you want thing.

Step three: Artificial intelligence talks to retailer’s artificial intelligence.

Step four: Bank’s artificial intelligence becomes concerned.

Step five: Retailer’s computer blocks the other computer.

Step six: You receive seven emails.

Step seven: Thing arrives.

Step eight: You have no memory of ordering thing.

At this rate, by 2030 your refrigerator will negotiate directly with Costco.

You will simply wake up one morning and discover 48 yogurts.

“Why did you buy these?”

REFRIGERATOR: Based on your recent activity, I detected sadness.

Fair enough.

The Modern Conspiracy Is Mostly Algorithms Arguing With Other Algorithms

That’s the great twist.

We spent decades imagining a world where powerful people secretly controlled everything.

Instead, we may be building a world where nobody completely controls anything because the software is talking to other software.

One company’s AI wants to sell you something.

Another company’s AI wants to protect your money.

Another algorithm wants to show you an advertisement.

Another decides whether you’re a fraud risk.

Another recommends a movie.

Another decides whether your résumé contains the appropriate number of meaningless corporate verbs.

Synergized.

Leveraged.

Optimized.

Spearheaded.

Nobody has ever “spearheaded” anything in an office.

You made a PowerPoint, Kevin.

Calm down.

Meanwhile, Everyone Is Worried AI Will Take Their Job

This might be the most 2026 sentence imaginable:

Companies are laying people off while other companies are desperately trying to hire people who understand artificial intelligence.

So apparently AI is simultaneously:

Taking your job.

Creating your job.

Helping you do your job.

Monitoring your job.

Writing your résumé for another job.

Reading that résumé on behalf of the company offering the job.

At some point we can remove the humans entirely and allow two computers to conduct a performance review of each other.

AI MANAGER: Where do you see yourself in five years?

AI EMPLOYEE: Replacing you.

AI MANAGER: Excellent initiative.

And Then There Are the Data Breaches

Every few weeks we learn that another enormous database has been compromised.

Names.

Addresses.

Phone numbers.

Account information.

Emails.

Sometimes financial information.

At this point, I’m beginning to wonder whether hackers know more about me than I do.

Somewhere on the dark web:

UNKNOWN CRITIC — COMPLETE PROFILE

Favorite restaurant: Long John Silvers (ugh, if only more of them still existed!)

Frequent purchases: Books nobody else buys.

Password: Probably the dog’s name followed by 1.

Recent search history: “Is this mole normal?”

Delete the file.

Actually, burn the server.

This Is Why Organized Crime Still Fascinates Us

Underneath all the jokes is something genuinely interesting.

Human beings have always been fascinated by hidden systems of power.

That’s part of what makes organized crime endlessly compelling.

It wasn’t simply criminals committing individual crimes.

It was structure.

Hierarchy.

Rules.

Networks.

Money.

Influence.

Corruption.

Businesses that looked legitimate.

Relationships that weren’t.

And people discovering that the world they could see wasn’t necessarily the entire world that existed.

That’s the territory explored in The Hidden Hand: The Mob’s Secret Tax on Everything—A True Crime History of Organized Crime’s Hidden Economy.

The history is extraordinary because organized crime was often hiding in plain sight.

Restaurants operated.

Trucks delivered things.

Businesses opened.

Politicians shook hands.

People went to work.

Meanwhile, underneath ordinary life existed networks most people never saw.

That’s what makes the history so irresistible.

And strangely relevant.

No, Your Toaster Is Not in the Mafia

Let’s establish something before somebody screenshots this article and starts a 94-part YouTube series.

I’m not saying Alexa is a capo.

Your grocery app is probably not laundering money.

The Freemasons did not raise your Netflix price.

And the Bilderberg Group is almost certainly not responsible for the fact that McDonald’s stopped serving breakfast at 10:30.

Although that last one deserves investigation.

The point is something simpler.

We are living through an era when enormously complicated systems increasingly influence ordinary life while remaining mostly invisible to the people using them.

Algorithms.

Data networks.

Artificial intelligence.

Recommendation systems.

Financial systems.

Global supply chains.

Cybercrime.

Corporate ownership structures.

Nobody needs to invent a secret tunnel underneath Denver International Airport to make modern life interesting.

Have you tried canceling a gym membership?

There are forces beyond human comprehension already at work.

Maybe That’s Why We Still Love the Hidden Hand

The attraction of organized-crime history isn’t that we secretly want gangsters running society.

It’s that those stories make invisible systems visible.

You follow the money.

You learn the hierarchy.

You discover who reported to whom.

Suddenly something confusing becomes understandable.

Boss.

Underboss.

Capo.

Soldier.

Associate.

There.

Five words.

I understand the Mafia.

Now explain my cable bill.

Broadcast TV Surcharge: $27.43

WHO IS THE BOSS OF THAT FAMILY?

The Biggest Conspiracy of All

Maybe that’s the joke of modern life.

We spent decades fearing a future in which mysterious organizations knew everything about us.

Then we willingly gave corporations our birthdays, fingerprints, faces, locations, friends, photographs, purchases, television habits and credit-card numbers.

And in return?

They gave us 15% off our first order.

That’s not a conspiracy.

That’s capitalism with a coupon code.

So yes, keep an eye out for the Hidden Hand.

Study the mob.

Read the history.

Follow the money.

Question complicated systems.

But before blaming an international cabal for whatever happened today, remember:

Sometimes there isn’t a shadowy mastermind controlling everything.

Sometimes it’s just an algorithm.

Sometimes it’s corporate incompetence.

Sometimes it’s a guy named Todd in Accounts Receivable.

And sometimes…

you forgot to cancel the free trial.


The Hidden Hand: The Mob’s Secret Tax on Everything—A True Crime History of Organized Crime’s Hidden Economy 

Available now on Amazon.

WAIT… CABLE TV MIGHT NOT ACTUALLY DIE?

I Wrote a Whole Book About Cable’s Rise and Fall. Then the NFL Apparently Performed CPR.

Well.

This is awkward.

Not long ago, I wrote an entire book called Channelmania: Cable TV’s Rise & Fall and the 100 Shows That Made the Medium.

Notice something important about that title.

It says:

RISE & FALL.

Not:

RISE & FALL & WEIRDLY HANG AROUND FOR ANOTHER 30 YEARS BECAUSE YOUR DAD WANTS TO WATCH THE PACKERS.

This week, Business Insider’s Peter Kafka reported something I wasn’t expecting.

Cable television—or more accurately, the larger pay-TV bundle—may actually have a floor.

Not a nice floor.

Not hardwood.

More like that suspicious linoleum in your grandmother’s basement that hasn’t been replaced since Matlock premiered.

But a floor nonetheless.

After years of watching America’s pay-TV subscriber count plummet from roughly 100 million households in 2016 to around 62 million today, analysts at MoffettNathanson now believe the decline could eventually stabilize somewhere around 50 million subscribers by 2030. 

Fifty.

Million.

People.

Still paying for a bundle of television channels.

In 2030.

I read this and immediately checked the publication date to make sure Business Insider hadn’t accidentally republished something from 2007.

Nope.

So as the author of a book chronicling the decline of cable television, I have an important announcement:

I WAS RIGHT.

Mostly.

Okay, extremely right with one potentially irritating footnote.

FIRST OF ALL, LET’S ADMIRE THE CORPSE

Before the cable industry starts firing confetti cannons because somebody discovered it might still have 50 million customers four years from now, some perspective is required.

Cable/pay TV had around 100 million subscribers in 2016.

Today?

About 62 million.

The forecasted floor?

Approximately 50 million. 

Imagine owning a restaurant with 100 customers.

Thirty-eight leave.

Another twelve are walking toward the door.

And your manager bursts out of the kitchen screaming:

“GOOD NEWS! WE THINK THE OTHER FIFTY ARE TRAPPED!”

That’s essentially where we are.

And yet, this is legitimately significant.

Because for years, the assumption throughout the television business has basically been:

The cord-cutting continues until somebody turns off the lights.

In fact, just two years ago, MoffettNathanson was saying there appeared to be no floor beneath cable’s decline. Now its analysis suggests there actually may be one. 

Which raises an obvious question.

Who are these people?

Who survives the Great Cable Purge?

Who looks at Netflix, Disney+, Prime Video, HBO Max, Peacock, Paramount+, Apple TV, YouTube and approximately 413 other streaming services and says:

“No thanks. Where’s my package with 184 channels, including six I watch?”

The answer, apparently, is…

FOOTBALL DADS.

Sports fans.

The cockroaches of the television apocalypse.

I say that lovingly.

Because sports—particularly the NFL—remain one of the strongest reasons millions of Americans continue paying for some form of television bundle.

Even as sports migrate onto streaming platforms, a large amount of premium live sports still runs through broadcast and cable channels. The consumers who had little interest in sports were disproportionately likely to abandon pay TV earlier. What’s increasingly left is a harder core of customers who actually need what the bundle still does well. 

And suddenly the future of television makes a bizarre amount of sense.

HGTV didn’t save cable.

The Weather Channel didn’t save cable.

The K1 Visa from 90 Day Fiancé didn’t save cable.

Guy Fieri didn’t save cable.

Though God knows he tried.

The thing standing between cable television and the abyss may ultimately be a 54-year-old man named Gary screaming:

“WHERE THE HELL IS THE BILLS GAME?”

THE NFL IS THE LAST HELICOPTER OUT OF SAIGON

Live sports possess something increasingly rare in entertainment:

urgency.

Nobody needs to watch episode six of The Bear at exactly 8:03 tonight.

You can watch it tomorrow.

Or Saturday.

Or three months from now when somebody at work asks whether you’ve seen it and you lie:

“I’m two episodes behind.”

Sports don’t work like that.

If your team is playing at 4:25 Sunday afternoon, you want to watch at 4:25 Sunday afternoon.

Not Monday morning.

Because by then your phone has already informed you what happened.

Your brother has texted you.

Your coworker has posted about it.

And some psychopath at the grocery store is wearing the winning team’s jersey.

The entire experience has been ruined.

Live sports remain one of television’s last remaining forms of appointment viewing.

And appointment viewing was the oxygen that powered cable television for decades.

WHICH IS VERY FUNNY, BECAUSE WE HAVE REINVENTED CABLE

This is one of the central absurdities behind Channelmania.

We spent years complaining about cable.

“Why am I paying for channels I don’t watch?”

So we destroyed the bundle.

Freedom!

Then everybody launched a streaming service.

Netflix.

Hulu.

Disney+.

HBO Max.

Peacock.

Paramount+.

Apple TV.

Prime Video.

ESPN.

Then the prices started rising.

Then advertising returned.

Then services started bundling together.

Then live channels appeared.

Then sports packages appeared.

Then streaming companies began selling bundles of streaming services.

And now services such as YouTube TV are increasingly functioning as internet-delivered versions of the traditional pay-TV bundle. MoffettNathanson’s forecast includes those virtual providers, and YouTube TV is on track to become the largest pay-TV distributor in America. 

Congratulations, America.

WE KILLED CABLE AND INVENTED CABLE.

Except now it buffers.

This may be the greatest technological achievement since humanity spent 30 years replacing buttons with touchscreens and then began adding buttons back because everyone realized buttons were actually pretty useful.

THE GREAT STREAMING PROMISE

Remember what streaming was supposed to accomplish?

Cheap.

Simple.

No commercials.

Watch whatever you want.

Cancel anytime.

That was the sales pitch.

Today, watching television sometimes feels like assembling the Infinity Stones.

Thursday Night Football?

One service.

Sunday afternoon?

Something else.

Sunday night?

Another place.

Monday night?

Check ESPN.

Christmas?

Maybe Netflix.

Some playoff game you absolutely need to see?

Apparently it’s streaming exclusively on an app called Flarp+ that costs $11.99 and requires your mother’s maiden name.

Consumer Reports’ current guide to the 2026–27 NFL season says that watching all the action requires a mix of streaming services even if you already have cable television.

USA Today reached essentially the same conclusion: even cable subscribers can no longer get every NFL game through one television plan as more games become streaming exclusives. 

We have achieved the impossible.

Television is simultaneously more customizable AND more confusing.

Outstanding work, everyone.

BUT HERE’S WHERE THE ARTICLE ACTUALLY CHANGED MY THINKING

I went into Channelmania looking backward.

The book is partly a celebration of the bizarre, wonderful ecosystem cable created.

Cable didn’t merely give us more television.

It changed what television was allowed to be.

MTV.

ESPN.

CNN.

Nickelodeon.

Discovery.

Comedy Central.

Food Network.

TLC.

AMC.

FX.

Adult Swim.

Networks built identities (then kept changing them: Family Channel-Fox Family-ABC Family-Freeform is just one nutty example).

They took chances.

They served niches.

They created cultural tribes.

And occasionally they aired nine consecutive hours of people buying storage lockers.

Nobody said every revolution had to be dignified.

But the conventional narrative says that era ends with streaming.

Cable rises.

Cable dominates.

Streaming arrives.

Cable dies.

Roll credits.

This new analysis suggests the ending may be stranger.

Cable doesn’t necessarily die.

It shrinks until only the people who genuinely need the bundle remain.

That’s different.

And frankly, it’s more interesting.

CABLE MAY BECOME THE COCKROACH OF MEDIA

The industry could eventually settle into something smaller but durable.

Think vinyl records.

Movie theaters.

Terrestrial radio.

Physical books.

Every new technology supposedly kills the previous technology.

Usually it doesn’t.

It just forces the old medium to figure out who still cares about it.

Vinyl didn’t need everyone.

It needed vinyl people.

Movie theaters don’t need everyone going twice a week.

They need movies compelling enough to make people leave their couches.

And perhaps pay TV doesn’t need 100 million households anymore.

Maybe it needs 50 million households that desperately value sports, news, live events and the convenience of having a bunch of channels accessible in one place.

There’s an important distinction here, however.

That doesn’t mean the traditional coaxial-cable box survives unchanged.

The category increasingly includes digital bundles such as YouTube TV. 

So the ultimate survivor may not be cable technology.

It may be the cable idea.

And that is the part I didn’t fully appreciate.

THE BUNDLE WASN’T THE VILLAIN. THE PRICE WAS.

For decades we blamed the bundle.

But the bundle solved an actual problem:

Finding stuff.

Turn on TV.

Guide.

Channel.

Done.

Streaming solved another problem:

Choice.

Watch what you want whenever you want.

Wonderful.

But as streaming fragmented, choice created a new problem:

Where the hell is everything?

That’s why bundling keeps creeping back.

Consumers don’t necessarily hate bundles.

Consumers hate paying too much for bundles filled with things they don’t value.

That’s a very different problem.

And sports provides enormous perceived value for a particular group of consumers.

One 2026 survey found 36% of respondents said live sports could bring them back to cable, although that figure comes from a 1,000-person commercial survey rather than an industry-wide subscriber measurement. 

That’s worth paying attention to.

SO WAS CHANNELMANIA WRONG?

Absolutely not.

Don’t be ridiculous.

I have books to sell.

The fundamental story hasn’t changed.

Cable television experienced one of the most astonishing ascents in American media history.

Then it fractured.

The monoculture disappeared.

Networks lost their identities.

Cord-cutting accelerated.

Audiences migrated.

The business model buckled.

Tens of millions of households left.

All true.

Channelmania chronicles that extraordinary rise and fall through 100 programs that helped define the medium, because cable wasn’t merely a delivery system.

It was a cultural era.

And eras can end even when the underlying technology survives.

The Roman Empire ended.

Rome is still there.

Blockbuster died.

People still watch movies.

The shopping mall declined.

Cinnabon remains undefeated.

Cable’s golden age can absolutely be over while some version of pay television continues serving 50 million American households.

Those ideas aren’t contradictory.

If anything, this new forecast gives the story one final twist.

CABLE TV’S LAST GREAT SHOW MAY BE CABLE TV

Picture the year 2030.

Netflix is showing NFL games.

Amazon has sports.

YouTube is America’s largest pay-TV provider.

Traditional cable companies sell broadband.

Streaming services bundle themselves together.

Commercials are everywhere again.

Consumers pay monthly subscription fees.

Shows release weekly.

Sports rights cost billions.

And 50 million households still subscribe to something that looks suspiciously like…

cable television.

Maybe cable didn’t lose.

Maybe it successfully infected its replacement.

And somewhere, an old Comcast cable box sitting in a landfill will smile.

Because it knew.

You always come back to the bundle.


THE CRITIC HAS SPOKEN.

In The Unknown Critic Presents: Channelmania — Cable TV’s Rise & Fall and the 100 Shows That Made the Medium, I revisit the programs, networks, personalities and magnificent televised nonsense that transformed cable from a utility into a cultural force.

The story includes triumphs.

Disasters.

Experiments.

Reinventions.

And more questionable programming decisions than should legally be allowed before midnight.

I wrote it believing cable television’s great cultural era had ended.

I still believe that.

But apparently cable itself has looked at the Grim Reaper and said:

“Hang on. The Chiefs game starts in ten minutes.”

And I respect that.

Get Channelmania on Amazon

Until next time, I’ll be under the bag.

LANTERNS: Finally, a Green Lantern Show for People Who Apparently Hate Green Lantern

The Unknown Critic Reviews HBO Max’s Lanterns

WARNING: SPOILERS THROUGH EPISODE 5. Also contains dangerous levels of sarcasm, several complaints about lighting, and one deeply concerned Green Lantern fan.

I owe Hollywood an apology.

For years, I’ve complained that superhero movies have become predictable.

Hero gets powers. Hero learns powers. Villain appears. City explodes. Giant laser shoots into sky. Hero discovers the real superpower was believing in himself all along.

I wanted something different.

Well.

HBO Max gave us Lanterns.

A Green Lantern television series in which two men possessing magical alien rings capable of creating literally anything their imaginations can conceive spend an extraordinary amount of time driving around rural America looking concerned.

Touché, Hollywood.

Touché.

TRUE DETECTIVE: SPACE COP EDITION

For anyone who hasn’t watched Lanterns, the premise sounds fantastic.

John Stewart, played by Aaron Pierre, is a prospective new Green Lantern partnered with veteran Lantern Hal Jordan, played by Kyle Chandler. Together they investigate a mysterious murder in the American heartland that gradually reveals much larger extraterrestrial implications.

Basically:

True Detective + Green Lantern.

Which sounds amazing.

And sometimes it is.

But somebody at HBO apparently heard “Green Lantern” and said:

“Great. But what if we remove approximately 87% of the green?”

This is the most aggressively earthbound story imaginable about an organization whose jurisdiction includes THE UNIVERSE.

The Green Lantern Corps patrols approximately three trillion planets.

Naturally, we’re in Nebraska.

Or, as the Guardians of the Universe apparently call it:

Sector 2814: Corn Division.

KYLE CHANDLER’S HAL JORDAN NEEDS A NAP

Let’s discuss Hal Jordan.

Kyle Chandler’s Hal doesn’t enter a room so much as arrive there already disappointed in whoever is inside it.

This is not the cocky test-pilot Hal Jordan many fans probably imagined.

This Hal looks like he’s spent 25 years fighting intergalactic evil and another 30 minutes trying to cancel SiriusXM.

And you know what?

I kind of love him.

Chandler plays Jordan as a man who has clearly seen some things.

Space things.

Bad things.

Things apparently serious enough to turn one of DC Comics’ great swashbuckling adventurers into your divorced uncle who arrives at Thanksgiving, sits in the recliner and says:

“So. What’s going on with you?”

Then doesn’t listen to the answer.

Hal has the most powerful weapon in the universe attached to his finger and somehow still projects the energy of a man whose check-engine light just came on.

That’s talent.

JOHN STEWART: THE ONLY PERSON HERE ASKING REASONABLE QUESTIONS

Then there’s Aaron Pierre’s John Stewart.

John spends much of Lanterns looking at Hal the way an employee looks at a manager who just explained a company policy that is obviously illegal.

And rightly so.

Hal’s mentoring strategy appears to consist of:

Step 1: Withhold important information.

Step 2: Behave suspiciously.

Step 3: Become irritated when John notices.

Step 4: Drive somewhere.

Step 5: Repeat.

John understandably begins wondering whether joining the Green Lantern Corps was such a great career move.

By Episode 5, he finally gets Hal’s ring—the thing he’s supposedly wanted.

And what does he do?

He gives it back.

Imagine spending your entire life wanting a Ferrari, finally getting the keys and discovering the previous owner left three unpaid parking tickets, a suspicious stain on the passenger seat and Sinestro in the glove compartment.

“No thanks.”

That’s basically John Stewart’s character arc.

AND THEN THERE’S ZOE

Ah, Zoe.

Poorna Jagannathan spends several episodes being mysterious enough that anyone who’s watched television since approximately 1987 immediately knows something is wrong.

Eventually we discover she’s a Manhunter.

An extremely dangerous synthetic being.

Which makes John’s romantic involvement with her slightly complicated.

There are bad dating decisions.

There are really bad dating decisions.

And then there’s:

“I accidentally slept with the ancient robotic enemy of the Green Lantern Corps.”

Try explaining THAT on Hinge.

“So what happened with your last relationship?”

“Well, she was emotionally unavailable.”

“Oh.”

“And a killer android.”

“Oh.”

“And I eventually shot her.”

“CHECK, PLEASE.”

Episode 5 takes the entire relationship to its spectacularly dysfunctional conclusion when John kills Zoe after using Hal as bait.

Dating in 2026, everybody.

THE SHOW’S SECRET SUPERPOWER: EVERYONE IS TERRIBLE AT COMMUNICATING

Here’s what fascinates me most about Lanterns.

Nearly every catastrophic event could potentially have been avoided if these people simply sat down at an IHOP and had an honest conversation.

Hal doesn’t trust John.

John doesn’t trust Hal.

The Guardians don’t trust Hal.

Hal doesn’t trust the Guardians.

Zoe can’t be trusted.

Sinestro DEFINITELY can’t be trusted.

And somewhere Guy Gardner is presumably polishing his bowl cut and wondering why nobody invited him.

The Green Lantern oath begins:

“In brightest day, in blackest night…”

Apparently the next line is:

“Whatever happens, don’t communicate properly with your coworkers.”

The Guardians of the Universe have existed for billions of years and still appear to have the management skills of a regional mattress chain.

No wonder Sinestro quit.

THE WEENIE

I need to mention that Episode 4 is actually titled:

“The Weenie.”

A multimillion-dollar prestige HBO superhero drama.

The Weenie.

Somewhere an HBO executive had to say:

“We’re extremely excited about next week’s episode, The Weenie.”

And another adult nodded.

This happened.

There were meetings.

Calendars.

Legal clearances.

Probably a PowerPoint.

Nobody stopped it.

I respect this tremendously.

BUT HERE’S THE ANNOYING PART…

Lanterns is actually pretty damn good.

I know.

I’m irritated too.

I wrote an entire book called From Comic Book Ink to Box Office Stink about superhero adaptations going horribly wrong.

I arrived prepared.

I sharpened the knives.

I put fresh eyeholes in the paper bag.

I stretched.

And then HBO inconveniently delivered something that actually has ideas.

Aaron Pierre is excellent.

Kyle Chandler is fascinating.

Their relationship is the show.

Not the rings.

Not the mythology.

Not the CGI.

Not whatever enormous cosmic catastrophe is inevitably waiting around the corner.

Two deeply flawed men are trying to decide what being a hero actually means.

And Lanterns keeps asking a surprisingly interesting question:

What happens when the person wearing the superhero costume isn’t sure he deserves it anymore?

That’s much more interesting than another 45-minute CGI sky battle.

Although…

Guys?

You DO have magic space rings.

Feel free to use them occasionally.

I’m just saying.

FIVE PAPER BAGS OF JUSTICE

So where does Lanterns rank after five episodes?

STORY

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️½

Genuinely compelling, although occasionally so committed to being a prestige detective drama that I expect Matthew McConaughey to emerge from a cornfield explaining that time is a flat power ring.

CAST

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Pierre and Chandler are terrific together.

I would watch these two investigate a stolen lawn mower.

Which, given this show’s pace and setting, may actually be Episode 6.

GREEN LANTERN-NESS

🛍️🛍️½

We have rings.

We have Guardians.

We have Sinestro.

We have Manhunters.

What we don’t have nearly enough of is Green Lanterns doing completely ridiculous Green Lantern things.

MAKE A GIANT GREEN BOXING GLOVE, YOU COWARDS.

DEPRESSING HBO LIGHTING

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Outstanding.

At several points I could almost identify the actors.

THE UNKNOWN CRITIC’S VERDICT

★★★★☆
4 out of 5 Paper Bags

Lanterns shouldn’t work.

It takes one of DC’s most colorful cosmic properties and turns it into a moody rural murder mystery starring two emotionally constipated space cops.

And somehow…

it works.

Mostly.

It’s weird.

It’s slow.

It’s occasionally frustrating.

It’s far more interested in damaged people than superhero spectacle.

And after five episodes, I’m genuinely curious where this bizarre little Green Lantern noir experiment is headed.

So congratulations, HBO.

You made a superhero show that doesn’t feel like every other superhero show.

Just one request.

Before the season ends…

Could somebody please use the most powerful weapon in the universe to make something stupid?

A giant hammer.

A locomotive.

A 40-foot green squirrel.

Anything.

Hal Jordan currently possesses a device limited only by human imagination.

So far his imagination appears to be:

Nebraska.


THE CRITIC HAS SPOKEN.

The Unknown Critic is the mysterious paper-bag-wearing pop-culture obsessive behind From Comic Book Ink to Box Office Stink, a celebration—or possibly crime-scene investigation—of 100 superhero movies that didn’t exactly save the day.

If you enjoy watching Hollywood spend hundreds of millions of dollars learning lessons it could have learned by asking literally any comic-book fan, you’ll probably enjoy the book.

Until next time, I’ll be under the bag.