Top 5 This Week — Apr 7, 2026

The Resident Assistants move like a military unit, storming dorm rooms to sniff out contraband while Gaten Matarazzo and Sean Giambrone stare through a drug-induced haze. It’s a lot. Pizza Movie tries for a "chaotic, mind-warping odyssey," but mostly just feels like it’s screaming for attention. Directors Brian McElhaney and Nick Kocher throw every gag at the wall. While the energy stays high, the "histrionic levels" of the performances eventually wear thin.

Matarazzo and Giambrone have real chemistry as "socially sidelined" roommates, but the film’s structure feels more like a gimmick than a choice. It mimics Edgar Wright without any of the actual precision. The rapid-fire dialogue hits in bursts, but the plot offers less substance than a cheap crust. It’s loud, it’s frantic, and it occasionally forgets to land a punchline. Beneath the "surreal surface," there isn't much to chew on.

Watch this if: You are currently high or nostalgic for mid-2000s stoner comedies.

Skip this if: You want humor that doesn't rely on people shouting to fill the silence.

A severed head sprouts lotus petals while a condemned ninja looks on with bored eyes. That’s the mood of Hell’s Paradise. It’s a garden of gore that animation studio MAPPA renders with its usual polished flair. Gabimaru isn’t your standard hero; he’s a hollowed-out weapon looking for an exit strategy. The show succeeds when it embraces the nightmare of its island, where deities look like melting wax figures.

It isn’t flawless. Some "rushed emotional beats" prevent the high stakes from landing with the intended weight. The script often sprints to reach the next fight at the expense of quiet moments. Yet, the "supporting characters... are fleshed out" enough to make the mounting body count feel significant. By the finale, it delivers a "satisfying wrap-up" that justifies the carnage. It’s cynical, colorful, and occasionally too fast for its own good. It doesn't fix the genre, but it wears its scars well.

For: Fans of dark action and high-budget body horror. Skip it: If you need a cozy atmosphere or can't stomach botanical mutilation.

Kitty Song Covey marches through the Seoul airport with the terrifying confidence of a teenager who thinks she’s the main character. She is. XO, Kitty isn’t just a lazy spin-off; it’s a candy-colored love letter to the K-dramas it mimics. The show dumps tired American high school tropes for the specific "narrative structure of K-dramas," and it’s better for it.

Jenny Han keeps the "charming components" of the original films but trades suburban boredom for an "in-depth look into modern-day Korean culture." It’s bright, loud, and delightfully sugary. Some subplots feel like filler, but the central tension—Kitty realizing her life isn't a scripted fantasy—actually lands. It doesn't apologize for its optimism. It earns it. The show ignores the usual teenage cynicism to focus on "balancing love, friendships, and life-changing decisions." It’s comfort food that won't rot your teeth.

For: Rom-com junkies and anyone who tracks K-pop comeback dates. Skip it: If you demand grit, realism, or can't stand bright pink aesthetics.

Kaitlin Olson stands in a neon-lit precinct, rearranging a stack of evidence photos with the frantic precision of a bird of prey. It’s a setup we’ve seen a thousand times—the genius outsider schooling the professionals—but Olson’s jittery, lived-in chaos keeps it from feeling like a retread.

The show doesn't reinvent the wheel. It barely even tries to align the tires. It’s a standard familiar formula, but Olson injects enough spiky personality to keep the gears turning. She knows how to land a fantastic reaction, turning a boilerplate interrogation into a stage for her specific brand of sharp-edged humor. The scripts are predictable. The cases won't blow your mind. Yet, the series functions as a solid procedural with plenty of upside because it refuses to take itself too seriously. It’s competent, middle-of-the-road television elevated by a lead who’s frankly too good for the material.

Who it’s for: Procedural junkies and anyone who would watch Kaitlin Olson read a phone book.

Who should skip: Viewers looking for prestige complexity or anything that actually breaks the mold.

Abed Nadir looks directly into the camera and announces they’re in a bottle episode. It’s a smug move that should feel annoying, but instead, it anchors the most inventive sitcom of the 2000s. Community refuses to stay in its lane. It’s a revel of nerdom that treats the half-hour format like a sandbox, turning a community college into a stream of gloriously indulgent pop culture homages ranging from high-stakes paintball to claymation.

The show occasionally curdles into self-indulgence, especially in later seasons when the meta-commentary feels like a defensive crouch. Yet, at its peak, the writing rarely sacrifices humor for emotion. It builds a genuine family out of narcissists and outcasts without the sugary rot of a standard multi-cam setup. This is a sitcom that aims to deviate from the norm and usually succeeds by being the smartest person in the room. It demands your full attention, or you’ll miss the three-season-long Beetlejuice gag.

Watch this if: You speak in IMDB quotes and appreciate a mean-spirited but heartfelt genre parody.

Skip this if: You want a Cheers clone or low-effort background noise.