You may recall that I wrote a review of the Netflix TV series Lilyhammer for the American Spectator Online last year. I won’t be doing that again this year, though I recently watched the second season all the way through. I just didn’t like this one as much. That is not to say that the writing or the production are inferior the second time around. In some ways they’re superior (the season resolution was more plausible, certainly). It’s just that I could find a message to love in the first season, and I got nothing from this one.

The first season, as I noted, had as one of its overarching themes the recovery of manhood in a neutered society.

This year’s theme seems to be “embracing your inner Gay.”

If there’s a third season, I’m undecided whether to even watch.

(One scene I did kind of enjoy was the appearance of a group of Norwegian-Americans from Minnesota in the last episode, when the main character and his friends have traveled to New York City.)

Neither season is actually recommended for our readership. Lots of f-bombs, and the occasional nudity of the first season has been upped to about one scene per episode. Also each season contains one shocking murder of an annoying but essentially innocent character.

Strong stuff. You’ve been warned.