The Morning Show

The Morning Show was Apple TV+'s launch strategy in television form: throw an irresponsible amount of money at Jennifer Aniston, Reese Witherspoon, Steve Carell, and Billy Crudup, then dare everyone not to watch. On paper, it had everything: giant stars, glossy production, expensive sets, and enough prestige-drama ambition to launch an entire streaming service. This thing should absolutely rip. (And to be fair, season one's pretty good.)

The Morning Show started with a genuinely juicy premise, ripped straight from the headlines: a beloved morning-show host gets MeToo'd and an entire network starts scrambling to clean up the mess.

But as the seasons went on, the show became more interested in reacting to the news cycle than telling a great story.

Every storyline feels determined to tackle the issue of the moment — media scandals, political division, cancel culture, COVID, misinformation – but by the time the show writes it, shoots it, edits it, and releases it, the audience has already lived through six versions of the discourse online, on cable news, and across social media. Instead of feeling sharp, The Morning Show increasingly feels like an echo chamber with Emmy-winning lighting.

Which is frustrating because there's still a watchable show buried in here. The cast does a ton of heavy lifting. Even when the writing swings from sharp to so on-the-nose you start wondering who exactly this is supposed to be convincing, the performances mostly carry it. The messaging gets so loud it occasionally drowns the actual drama underneath.

The Morning Show isn't terrible. Season one is pretty good — especially if you're into glossy workplace dramas where everyone walks fast, talks faster, and looks stressed out in designer clothing. But as it goes on, it gets trapped by its own need to feel important. And over time, importance becomes a pretty weak substitute for insight.