‘Task’ Is the New HBO Series We’re Going to All Be Obsessed With

This week:

• Your new fall TV obsession.

• What is going on with the VMAs?

• What is going on with SNL?

• What is going on with Hilaria Baldwin?

• A much-needed parting message.

The TV Distraction We Need

I can’t imagine why anyone would be desperate to escape their news and social media feeds this weekend. Did anything big just happen?

In any case, just like Amanda Seyfried’s Mean Girls character’s breasts can always tell when it’s going to rain—or, when it is raining—my big naturals are sending me major vibes that people are going to need something good to watch to briefly distract themselves from the real world. Or, they are needing that now.

That’s why I’m so thankful for my guardian angel, HBO, for providing me with my weekly church worship: its Sunday night programming.

The hallowed timeslot, memorialized by The Sopranos and Sex and the City, became the eventual home of water-cooler bombshells like Game of Thrones, Six Feet Under, Veep, Girls, Succession, and, most recently, The White Lotus and The Last of Us.

Joining that list now is Task, the new series from Mare of Easttown creator Brad Ingelsby. Task isn’t a Mare spinoff and the two shows’ storylines aren’t related, but they might as well be. From tone to plot to setting and, let’s say, noticeable accent work, they are very much sibling series. And that is about as high of an endorsement of Task as I can give.

The show, which premiered its mesmerizing 70-minute first episode last weekend (you can catch up on HBO Max), stars Mark Ruffalo as beleaguered FBI agent Tom Brandis. When a series of drug-den robberies turn fatal, he begrudgingly agrees to head a task force investigation unit—despite some tragic family troubles making it the worst possible time to take something like this on.

Task is set in the suburbs of Philadelphia, specifically Delaware County—aka Delco—the homeland of the unusual “oohs” and vowel sounds that helped earn Kate Winslet and Julianne Nicholson their Mare of Easttown Emmys. And like Mare, Ingelsby crafts an unshakable sense of place in Task that colors everything from the character dynamics, to the stakes at hand, to transportive cinematography and shot set ups.

That means you feel the chill in the air, just as palpably as you’re able to channel the circumstances and context motivating the characters’ extreme actions. Here, crime isn’t just evil, but often a devastating act of desperation, just as nobility isn’t purely brave—it has consequences that can break up families, too.

In the premiere alone, there were four scenes that took my breath away: an expertly acted drunken meltdown from Ruffalo; a confrontation between Tom Pelphrey’s Robbie, one of the robbers, and his niece (Emilia Jones) that excavated two decades of trauma in 30 seconds; a heart-pounding shootout involving Robbie and his friend Cliff (Raúl Castillo); and a final scene so surprising it sent a chill up my spine.

Task is not purely “escapist” TV, in the way that my beloved The Great British Baking Show is, with its new season arriving just when we needed it most. It’s not a Real Housewives-esque trip to the television looney bin; gird your loins for a masterful new season of Real Housewives of Salt Lake City returns Tuesday. And it would be unfair to group it with the glorious bonkersness of The Morning Show, which also returns next week.

It’s escapist in a completely different way: a show that is so good, you can’t help but become engrossed in it. Sure, the storylines are disturbing and the pacing purposefully intense and stressful, but in that way, you’re taken on a ride—a journey away from a traumatizing reality to a fictional one. In that regard, Task is providing the same service that the excellent Alien: Earth has since its’ premiere this summer.

Episode 2 premieres Sunday night. See you at church.

The Hottest Award Show of 25 Years Ago

I thoroughly enjoyed this year’s MTV VMAs. That should be considered a huge problem for the show.

You see, I am an elderly man of [redacted] years, one who remembers when the VMAs were so provocative, with such a pulse on the current beat of coolness and edginess, that people my age clutched their pearls and condemned the show. This year, I sat on my couch sipping chamomile tea and bopped along to the telecast, absolutely delighted. I can’t think of a more damning sign of irrelevance.

Mariah Carey, Ricky Martin, and Busta Rhymes performed and received special awards. Aerosmith paid tribute to Ozzy Osbourne. Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson were presenters. LL Cool J emceed, introducing the night’s first musician…Kenny G? Even Doja Cat’s opening number was an homage to late-80s, early-90s era Paula Abdul and Janet Jackson.

It did succeed in at least one of its traditional missions: Because their performances were just so good, I have boarded the fandom for Sabrina Carpenter and Tate McRae, two performers I was largely ambivalent about before. The show also confirmed that I’ve missed nothing by having no idea who Alex Warren was until his snoozy performance that night.

Loved it all. How fun for me! How weird for the VMAs brand.

Live From New York It’s…Well, Who’s Even Left?

At the beginning of the underrated Netflix series The Four Seasons, Steve Carell’s character is planning to leave his wife, but waits until after their vow renewal ceremony to go through it, blowing up their decades-long institution and moving on with a younger woman.

I feel like that’s an apt comparison for what’s happening at Saturday Night Live.

The series kept its (also underrated) cast intact through its landmark 50th season and the ensuing anniversary bashes. Now, there’s somewhat of a comedy bloodbath happening as the show gears up for Season 51.

Popular and promising young cast members like Emil Wakim, Michael Longfellow, Devon Walker, and two of the Please Don’t Destroy Me troupe were fired. Iconic veteran Heidi Gardner is gone, and so too are notable writers Celeste Yim and Rosebud Baker. Now, even though a “confirmed” cast list included her name, the hilarious Ego Nwodim just announced she won’t be returning.

What is going on over there at Studio 8H?

Wait, Do We Like Hilaria Baldwin Now?

Hilaria Baldwin showed off the casa in the Hamptons that she shares with her esposo Alec for The New York Times, and I have to say: The more I am forced to learn about this controversial couple—often against my will—the more I kind of like them.

Case in point, the reveal that Hilaria commissioned a jumbotron-sized painting of herself, inspired by a silly paparazzi photo taken of her at a grocery store, and mounted it over the mansion’s mantle.

That is the kind of vaguely narcissistic, yet also tongue-in-cheek sense of humor I can get behind. I want one for my apartment. Of myself, not of Hilaria…but also, maybe one of her too.

And as Always…

What a week, but we got through it. To quote Ariana Grande:

More From The Daily Beast’s Obsessed

Obsessed was in Canada for the Toronto International Film Festival, reviewing all the biggest films. Read more.

Rainn Wilson reveals what The Office episodes make him cringe now. Read more.

The leaked sex scene that caused an industry uproar. Read more.

What to watch his week:

The Long Walk: Traumatizing? Yes. Also the best Stephen King movie in years. (Now in theaters)

Spinal Tap II: The End Continues: All these years later, still operating at an 11. (Now in theaters)

The History of Sound: Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor confirm they’re the generation’s best actors. (Now in theaters)

Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale: A perfect goodbye! (Now in theaters)

What to skip this week:

The Girlfriend: Give Robin Wright a better series! (Now on Prime Video)