See

If you saw the original trailer for See, you were probably right there with us: "Holy shit, this looks insane." Jason Momoa charging through forests like a post-apocalyptic war god. Gorgeous mountain landscapes ripped straight out of The Revenant. Massive battles. Brutal action. Every frame looked like Apple accidentally approved an extra zero in the budget.

And for about five minutes, it genuinely feels like you're watching the coolest show ever made. Then a little voice in the back of your head goes:

Wait... everyone's blind?

And just like that, the air starts leaking out of the tires. Which is a shame, because the craftsmanship is honestly incredible — the cinematography is stunning, the production design is ridiculously expensive-looking, the costumes rule, and the fight choreography is genuinely badass. Jason Momoa and the rest of the cast are fully committed. Everybody is clearly working their ass off trying to drag this show into greatness.

Eventually your brain starts asking follow-up questions. By episode three or four, you're watching a battle thinking: how the hell are these blind guys coordinating like the Spartans in 300? The bigger the battle, the harder it becomes to stop thinking about the mechanics underneath it all. Once that disbelief breaks, the show never fully recovers.

It's frustrating, because See swings huge. It wants to be mythic, cinematic television on a scale most streaming shows never even attempt. We respect the ambition. But eventually every battle, every speech, and every dramatic reveal runs into the same problem:

Wait... everyone's blind?