With Minions and Monsters dominating theaters, this seemed like a good week to review what I’ve been streaming. And to make a confession: If I haven’t been watching “Widow’s Bay” like everybody else, it’s because I made the mistake of starting an obscure horror show on Prime Video that turned out to be so weirdly addictive that I took Amazon’s bait and shelled out for another subscription.
That would be “From” (2022-2026; now only on MGM+), the fourth season of which premiered in April. Directed by Jack Bender of “Lost,” the pilot introduces a family that drives their RV into a rural township and can’t leave.
The Matthewses appear to have entered another dimension: a run-down village full of people who were all traveling in different parts of the U.S. when they found themselves trapped there. The nameless place has rules: Every home is equipped with a talisman, and every dusk, Sheriff Boyd (Harold Perrineau) walks the street ringing a bell to signal curfew. Monsters come out at night, hungry for human flesh, and they all look like regular folks you might see in Mayberry on “The Andy Griffith Show.”
With its ever-evolving mystery, “From” is obviously derivative of “Lost” (which Perrineau also starred in), and it has some of the same problems. The acting quality ranges from the chillingly superlative to the enjoyably hammy to the nonexistent. Many of the episodes tread water. Viewers of all 40 know better than to expect the planned fifth and final season to end with a satisfying explanation of every bizarre happening in Fromville (as fans affectionately call it).
But “From” isn’t about revelations — it’s a hangout show for people who like their hangouts decorated with creepy artifacts and blood spatter. The opening credits, featuring the Pixies’ cover of “Que Sera Sera,” set the dark mood, and the setting and production design fulfill their promise. Shot in Nova Scotia, the town is a prime slice of retro Americana, with a diner, a motel and a decaying Victorian mansion on a hill.
Fromville’s more memorable residents include an excitable tech bro (David Alpay) who refuses to be trapped in this backwater; a grimly efficient outdoorswoman (Elizabeth Saunders); and a none-too-stable fellow (Scott McCord) who’s been carrying around the same lunch box since the 1970s, when a massacre left him the town’s sole inhabitant. If you can overlook the clunkier performances, you may find “From” trapping you as surely as the town captures its residents. What better metaphor for humanity’s existential plight than a never-quite-brilliant streaming show that hooks you anyway?
If “From” is a hangout show, the eight-episode limited series “Human Vapor,” which just premiered on Netflix, is more of an event. Based on a 1960 sci-fi film, this Japanese and South Korean coproduction was cowritten by Yeon Sang-ho, who directed the cult zombie film Train to Busan, and features highly cinematic action sequences and special effects.
The first episode starts with a literal bang: During a live TV interview in a Tokyo studio, a renowned expert on biomass goes airborne and explodes all over the unfortunate broadcaster, Kyoko Kono (Yû Aoi). A mysterious man (Uta Uchida) soon appears online, claiming to have engineered this death as part of a mission of vengeance. His weapon? Turning into a mist that can rupture people’s innards and toss them hither and yon.
The conceit is more hokey than scary, with shades of H.G. Wells’ The Invisible Man, while the CGI mist recalls the supernatural shenanigans at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. But, much like the titular vapor, the series transforms as it goes, keeping us engaged by defying genre expectations. The first three episodes are a pretty standard — if exciting — crime procedural in which Kyoko chases the Human Vapor with the help of progressive police detective Kenji Okamoto (Shun Oguri), who happens to be her ex. Yakuza killers and government officials alike obstruct their investigation of the shadowy conspiracy at the vapor’s origin.
The fourth episode, however, makes a radical perspective shift to follow two shut-in siblings (Suzu Hirose and Kento Hayashi) who run a horror channel called the Terror Zone. After spotting the Human Vapor in a niche video, they embark on their own investigation, which leads them on a wild journey through Tokyo subcultures. The episode’s affectionate insider parody of the horror scene plays like a solid stand-alone film — until it ends in revelations that recast everything we thought we knew, pushing the whole series into a higher gear.
For U.S. viewers accustomed to rigid genre templates, “Human Vapor” offers a welcome element of surprise. Even as it twists and morphs toward an emotionally satisfying conclusion (no cliff-hangers here), the series sends a consistent message of defending the poor and marginalized against institutional oppression, like a sci-fi Les Miserables. It’s as earnest as it’s weird, and maybe we need a little of both right now.
Also earnest and weird is the recent theatrical hit The Sheep Detectives, now streaming on Prime Video. A flock of sentient sheep team up to solve the murder of their beloved shepherd (Hugh Jackman), who schooled them in whodunits via bedtime reading. Yes, the sheep are digital animations, voiced by actors such as Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Bryan Cranston. But they’ve been scripted with so much gentle humor and thoughtfulness that we come to care about them. An all-ages family movie in the Babe tradition, The Sheep Detectives is a sweetly soothing watch for hot-weather gatherings — and could inspire a new generation of kids to go vegetarian.
The original print version of this article was headlined “Three New Streaming Options for Steamy Nights”
This article appears in The Cartoon Issue • 2026.
Got something to say?
Send a letter to the editor and we'll publish your feedback in print!
