“Veronica Mars” Explosive Finale Divides Fans (It's for the Best)

Veronica is better as a closed-off, emotionally-stunted pessimist, with a soft marshmallow heart deep inside.



Fans were elated last week when Hulu's reboot of Veronica Mars dropped one week early following the cast's panel at San Diego Comic Con. The hype quickly turned on its head after viewers binged the eight-episode fourth season only to find that Veronica's nemesis-turned-lover-turned-husband, Logan Echolls, was blown to smithereens by the last bomb planted by serial bomber, Penn Epner (Patton Oswalt). So what happens when an underdog series with a cult-ish following kills off its fans' favorite love interest? A fandom fractures.

When the series began in 2004, Veronica Mars (Kristen Bell) was a young teenage private eye, following in her Sheriff dad's footsteps and trying to solve her best friend's murder. Meanwhile, Logan (Jason Dohring) spent much of the first season as a volatile rich kid organizing bum fights and ostracizing Veronica when her father fingered the wrong guy in the murder case. But soon, Logan and Veronica bonded over their grief over the loss of Lily Kane, and they ended up secretly dating at the end of season 1, kickstarting an on-again-off-again affair. Fans of the series (coined "marshmallows") shipped them hard, creating the nickname "LoVe" for the two unlikely lovers.

Six years after its cancellation, fans raised $5.7 million on Kickstarter to see their favorite sassy sleuth back in action, resulting in a 2014 movie that fueled the saga of LoVe and reignited their sexual tension. Now, 15 years and another tumultuous season later, Logan and Veronica finally tied the knot— only for Logan to be offed just minutes after the nuptials. To say some marshmallows are upset would be the TV understatement of the year.

Although the quick one-two of marriage and death might have had a rushed execution, you can't help but balk at the overreaction from fans. Longtime fans have given up on the show, turning their backs on creator Rob Thomas for good. Some have even called him sexist and the writing lazy. For me, a strong reaction of any kind is a good sign; indifference is the enemy of fiction. I'd also argue that one character should not make or break a show. But in all the excitement, some may have missed the clues dropped by Thomas and Bell; and clearly, fans' failure to crack the case left them feeling blindsided.

But we can't say we weren't warned. Before season 4 debuted, Thomas tweeted, "The movie was nostalgic. The Hulu limited series isn't going to be. Hardcore So-Cal noir. One big case...This is a detective show." Bell even chimed in on the press tour, stating, "You might not want this version, but you do need this version."

It should've been clear that this was no longer the CW's VeronicaMars, nor would the season serve up a double-scoop of fan service like the movie did. As Thomas told TV Guide, "The show started out as sort of a teen soap-noir detective show hybrid. And in order for us to keep doing these, I think it needs to become a detective show—a noir, mystery, detective show—and those elements of teenage soap need to be behind us."

It was the right call. LoVe's relationship was just as much a ticking bomb as the explosive that killed Logan, and Veronica's tendency to emotionally manipulate Logan early in the season proved it. Drawn to the bad boy version of Logan from seasons past, the writers made it clear that Veronica was baiting him to lash out, despite his efforts to put his demons to rest. He worked overtime to overcome his traumas and be a better man for her, but Veronica remained hardened by her own past. Her initial rejection of Logan's proposal and her inability to confront their problems at his request is textbook Veronica: Trust is difficult for her, so she stays guarded. In sum, she's deeply flawed.

The DNA of the show needs to expand to move forward—and Veronica needed to be separated from Logan to do that. A season of couple's therapy isn't compelling television, nor is Logan's perpetual on-call status for the military. Veronica is now a woman in her 30s, and without Logan she can dig elbow-deep into her next case as a workaholic with severe trust issues, a passion for justice, and an extensive taser collection. Without Logan, her fire will burn brighter than ever.

It's uncertain if Veronica Mars will fight, scratch, and claw its way to a fifth season. If it's anything like its namesake heroine, it will. But the polarized reaction to Logan's death draws a definite line in the sand. There are those with fantasies of LoVe who refuse to let go of the past, and there are realists who can accept a necessary evil if it means more of the show they love. Veronica is most compelling when she's fighting from the bottom. Like so many classic noir heroes before her, Veronica is better as a closed-off, emotionally-stunted pessimist, with a soft marshmallow heart deep inside. She's the underdog we root for because she never gives up. But, as in all great fiction, the protagonist can't have everything she wants, and as viewers, neither can we.


“Big Brother” Is Undeniably Racist

While the racism is clear to fans, the producers still try to cover it up in editing.

Monty Brinton/CBS

Three people of color left the Big Brother house on the same night amidst blatant racism and all sorts of other nasty behavior from the other contestants.

CBS' reality mainstay follows a group of houseguests stuck together in a house full of cameras as they compete for a monetary prize. To truly live up to the Orwellian implications of the title Big Brother, the show streams live footage of the cast 24 hours a day on the CBS All Access app. But what was once a summer guilty pleasure feels extra dirty this year, thanks to racially-charged bullying and disgusting comments from half of the show's contestants. But what's just as bad as the racism in the house is the producers' attempts to ignore it.

Racial lines were drawn from day one, when Camp Director Jackson selected Jess, a Latina woman, David, an African American, and Ovi, a Bangladeshi American, for possible banishment. Later, David, Ovi, and Kemi, a black female, were the first evicted and sent to Camp Comeback, a twist that allowed them to remain in the house to await a chance to re-enter the game. Viewers certainly noticed the race-based decisions of those in power. David went so far as to say, "Camp Comeback is looking real colorful," causing the live feeds to quickly switch off him.

Jack and Jackson, two physically fit white dudes, remain the two biggest problems. On the feeds, Aquaman-wannabe, Jack, was caught saying, "F**king Kemi makes me want to stomp a f**king mud hole through her chest." Jackson said he wanted to "cut this tumor out of us because she's a cancer on the house." What did Kemi do to deserve this treatment? She simply existed. But instead of showing footage in the episodes of Jack calling her "dogsh*t," "toxic," and a "f**king maggot," producers aired a clip of the Jacks insincerely comforting Kemi.

The show's production team is breaking a sweat trying to give Jack and Jackson glorified nice-guy edits, repeatedly refusing to acknowledge their racist overtones. The hate seems to be contagious, as many other houseguests are guilty of similar behavior. After David temporarily exited on Day 1, houseguests reamed him for being "a villain," "terrifying," "intimidating," and "disrespectful." David was only in the house for a few hours, yet the hate machine churned against him. And then there's Nick, a children's therapist, who said he wanted to spit in Kemi's face because "she's a piece of sh*t." Think this will make it on air? Don't hold your breath.

So, when exactly did Big Brother turn into a dumpster fire?

This isn't the first time the show has faced accusations of racism. In 2013, four season 15 houseguests were fired for similar racist behavior. When the episodes' edits reflected what was actually happening, live feed fans felt vindicated that the racism and ugliness they witnessed was finally exposed on national television. When Aaryn Gries was evicted, host Julie Chen Moonves grilled the Texan college student, reading back all the disgusting comments she dished out on the feeds. It was a savage serving of justice. But it's not likely that a similar reckoning will happen in BB21. Kemi, David, and Ovi deserve better.

Adding salt to the wound, producers tried to manipulate Kemi to act like a racist stereotype. Kemi told other houseguests, "I think I'm portrayed as a bitch. One-hundred percent. They were like, 'Oh, why don't you, like, wag your finger and be like, 'Uh uh girlfriend.' I'm like, 'I don't even talk like that,' I literally don't talk like that, so, like, what are you trying to do?"

On the feeds, Kemi was sweet, hilarious, and loyal to her friends, yet the show worked overtime to paint her as a villain to excuse the other houseguests' racist behavior and opinions. If disliking someone's cooking and putting her water bottle in the fridge are reasons for this much hate, then this is a cruel world.

The show has a long history of hiding bigoted remarks from the designated Golden Child of the season, but Twitter is tired of the BS, defending Kemi and calling out the show.

Even former houseguests are stepping up. Audrey Middleton (the show's first trans contestant), recently called the show a "completely corrupt operation," tweeting, "They protect the worst individuals on the show and undermine the edits of the minorities because they need people to keep watching. They can't exploit the Jacks because they need to be likable for the long game to retain viewership. They represent those that suit them. If you don't, they will discredit, sabotage, and exploit those who they deem lesser than to limit their voice."

If the show is a microcosm of American society, it's clear we have a long way to go towards equality. While you can't always control what people say or do inside a pressure cooker like the Big Brother house, purposely altering the narrative or changing the context of houseguest's character isn't editing magic, it's unethical deception. As the novel 1984 warns, Big Brother is always watching. But heads up, Big Brother, so are we.


Blood Orange's "Angel's Pulse" Mixtape Is a Colorful Coda to "Negro Swan"

Pulse is minimalist but carries a message, beckoning listeners to figure themselves out while he's also trying to self-reflect.

Blood Orange

Last year Blood Orange (né Dev Hynes) released the acclaimed Negro Swan, a stream of consciousness that served as a treatise on identity politics.

He explored what it meant to be black and depressed in a heteronormative society that seemingly rejects those who are different. On his new release, the Angel's Pulse mixtape, he continues his existential journey with 30+ new minutes that complement his catalogue like a colorful, free-flowing coda.

Like on Swan, Hynes fuses elements of R&B, hip-hop, and alt-pop to create tracks that are chillwave-adjacent. On board lending their talents are Toro y Moi, Kelsey Lu, Ian Isiah, Project Pat, Gangsta Boo, Tinashe, Porches, Arca, Joba of Brockhampton, Justine Skye, and BennY RevivaL, but the production and mixing are all Hynes's unique voice and flow.

"I put as much work and care into it as I do with the albums I've released, but for some reason trained myself into not releasing things the rate at which I make them. I'm older now though, and life is unpredictable and terrifying," said Hynes in a statement.

Pulse is minimalist but carries a message, beckoning listeners to figure themselves out while he's also trying to self-reflect. "What is it you notice all that way down? Our vacant sounds can help you figure it out," he sings on "Baby Florence (Figure)."

His ideas may individually seem like abstracts, but Pulse is an introspective downtempo collection that casts a much wider net, navigating pain, a broken heart, confusion, and the fear of lost connection. On "Tuesday Feeling (Choose to Stay)," he laments choosing "to ignore blues," while feeling scattered and misunderstood. "I want the lifestyle for free, I want the p**sy for free, an arm around me to grieve, a sleep without sweat and me, my self doubts in a tweet, my mood rests on coffee, try to understand me."

As with past releases, he's anxious about merely existing, yet confronts those feelings of unrest head on. On "Happiness," he asks, "How do you know when life will choose to fade away? How do you know if you've been wrong?" Fifteen years and five releases later, Hynes is still searching for meaning and answers in these tumultuous times.

Blood Orange records have always been about stepping out and owning one's differences. Musically, his mellow, moody beats and macro concepts make him a standout, yet thematically Hynes appears uncertain and wavering...and it's a relief to hear someone cop to that. On the mixtape's closer, "Today," he sings, "Loose touch and confidence never seems the same, eyesight stays clearer when selfishness became number one and chewing gum you were afraid, big mistake in stepping out...Nothing good today."

Hynes has always boldly represented himself with his originality, lush melodies, and poignant creative direction, never failing to unravel new layers of himself, both sonically and spiritually. On Pulse, Hynes proves to be the genre-spanning auteur we always knew he was. By continuing to focus on his insecurities and anxieties, he shows us that everyone—everything—is a work in progress and that recognizing imperfection is our greatest strength.

Angel's Pulse


How “The Real World” Reclaimed Relevance Through Diversity

For this new go-around, The Real World: Atlanta raised the casting age limit from 24 to 34, resulting in five cast members who add significant depth to the reboot.


It's been two years since the last iteration of MTV's The Real World disgraced our screens. Now it's back, and most surprisingly, The Real World: Atlanta doesn't suck.

Moving the series to Facebook Watch, producers hit the reset button, rebooting the franchise to enmesh it with social media and today's consumer culture. Even when the show treads on well-worn tropes à la the "religious southern virgin," it harks back to what we originally loved about it: different people from all walks of life coming together, learning from each other, and confronting the status quo.

When The Real World launched in 1992, it was a ground-breaking social experiment hailed for its documentary-style depiction of issues like abortion, substance abuse, and death. Its representation of sexuality and race served as an educational tool for a young early-'90s MTV generation. At 9 years old, Julie and Kevin's New York argument was the first time I really considered racial differences, and Pedro Zamora's activism on the San Francisco season helped explain homosexuality and the AIDS epidemic to me in ways my parents couldn't.

In recent years, the series has shapeshifted repeatedly, disintegrating into a heaping mess of producer manipulation and sadness. Stunt casting's led to unstable situations that seemed like mental warfare on its participants: Exes moved into the house as permanent roomies on Real World:Ex-Plosion, while former enemies moved in on Skeletons and Bad Blood, which were equal parts cloying and distasteful. The show became a hollow shell of its former self, an extravagant circus act that threw ethics entirely out the window. If you bailed on the series miles back, no one would blame you.

But for this new go-around, The Real World: Atlanta raised the casting age limit from 24 to 34, resulting in five cast members who add significant depth to the reboot. Four of its seven cast members are minorities, leaning into the cultural demand for more diverse representation on our TV screens. Highlights include: Yasmin, a half-Muslim pansexual art teacher and champion of body positivity; Arely, a Mexican DACA recipient and mother to a four-year-old; Dondre, a pansexual black man who's vocal about supporting Trump and the wall; and Justin, a Georgia State University grad focused on African-American equality and social justice issues.

For the first time in a long time, the cast actually has something to say, and the diversity in the house has led to storylines that largely match up with today's most pressing issues. Arely's politically-charged immigration story—she can't complete her nursing exams due to her DACA status—conflicts with Dondre's strict Republican opinions, setting off Justin, who can't fathom how a black LGBTQIA person could ever support the current president.

And then there's Meagan, the virgin from Louisiana who's the easiest target of the bunch. After admitting she's not comfortable around homosexuality because of what's written in the Bible ("The ones that are shoving it down my throat, I can't deal with...because in the Bible it says one man and one woman"), her roommates pointed out Christian teachings commonly overlooked in everyday society, even by devout Catholics. Dondre went so far to ask her, "Are you half-assing your religion?" His question sent her into a spiral.

Meagan confessed, "What they're saying makes so much sense, and I almost feel this guilt for saying that. If there are other things in the Bible that we do, why is that one thing not OK? I feel like my whole identity is being challenged."

In the most recent episode, Tovah, a social worker from Arizona, discussed her sexual assault with her roommates, admitting that she lost her virginity when she was raped at 17.

"He started texting me and harassing me, like, 'I raped you. Have a great f**ed up life,'" she told the house. "It definitely changed who I was. It's a big part of how I act around people, how I view sex, how I view relationships," she continued in a confessional.

These seven new strangers aren't afraid to open up, resulting in a season that's as back to basics as we're likely to get. Thanks to its diversified casting and focus on issues affecting Americans today, the Atlanta season is a return to form. Is it perfect? Hell no. (The words and graphics plastered over every scene is damn near infuriating, for one.) The show will never reclaim its San Francisco or Seattle glory days, but it's still a refreshing pivot that could extend the franchise's life expectancy...if it can continue avoiding off-brand twists. Come for the topical life discussions and stay for the club treks, hot tub makeouts, and drunken verbal brawls; it's still The Real World, after all.


These are trying times, both in real life and in The Handmaid's Tale's dystopian world of Gilead.

With the latter's rape under the guise of religion, the criminalization of women's health practices, and the attack on women's and minorities' rights, the line between reality and fiction is blurring. Season 3 of Hulu's Elizabeth Moss-led adaptation remains a gripping, terrifying view of an all-too-real possibility for America's future.

One of the most fascinating characters remains the former conservative activist Serena Waterford (Yvonne Strahovski), whose relationship with Moss's June Osborne (a.k.a Ofjoseph #2) remains fluid, as shifting alliances—and a baby —have shaken June's world. At the end of last season, Serena handed baby Nichole over to June, fully acknowledging that June would escape Gilead with the baby to give her a better life in Canada, free from oppression. Serena's difficult choice hinted that she had defected, at least partly, from Gilead's sexist, totalitarian regime. But as new episodes indicate, Serena seems to be driven by a love she'll never have and possibly never understand—the love of a child.

Over the past three years, Serena has been a walking contradiction. She's stern and sour on the outside, staunchly following Gilead's beliefs and willfully following her husband's leadership, both politically and in their household. Yet, Serena has shown that she's capable of compassion through her willingness to do favors for June, her sharing of information about June's older daughter, Hannah, and her empathetic, emotional decision to help June escape with the baby. It's as if a new Serena has replaced the stone-cold, heartless woman from earlier episodes.

But is it possible for Serena to escape her religious past, and if so, does she deserve redemption? After all, she's partly responsible for the creation of Gilead in the first place. Her religious views took center stage on her pre-Gilead college lecture tour, whereby she instructed women to do their duty and pro-create to help counter the plummeting birth rate. She wrote a book entitled A Woman's Place, which contained the notorious line, "Never mistake a woman's meekness for weakness." Women, according to Gilead's founding principles, should know their place and humbly fall in line. A feminist, she is not.

However, after the takeover, Serena was completely shut out of the new government planning. The neo-society won't let women "forget their real purpose," thereby using theological beliefs and societal circumstances to enslave women—even ones like Serena, who are lucky enough to find themselves married to powerful men and, due to their infertility, be free from Gilead's sexual abuse and trafficking. Even scarier, she seems acquiescent in her new role.

But it's her complicity in Gilead's kidnapping, murder, and rape that makes Serena's compassion so perplexing. She places her beliefs over other women's human rights and can't or won't see the injustices her classism fuels. She, along with many others in Gilead, puts "the greater good" over the sexual traumas inflicted upon handmaids day in and day out. And that's not to mention Gilead's horrifying clitoridectomies, eye-gouges, and other mutilations it uses to keep the handmaids in line. Yet to Serena, these are normal. Gilead is normal. Praise be.


As season 3 has shown thus far, Serena is backpedaling on her decision to let baby Nichole go. Her husband, Commander Fred, plans on negotiating with Canada for the baby's surrender, despite Serena knowing deep down that a life in Gilead could have dangerous stakes for Nichole. Serena is putting her own yearning for love and motherhood over the well-being of an innocent child. If Serena can't—or won't—put the baby's life over her own neediness, she'll continue being unfit for parenthood. Just because we want something doesn't mean we deserve it.

But Serena's deeply layered emotional blueprint makes her strangely compelling. She's completely unpredictable, warm one minute and icy the next. She's religious and poised, but simultaneously callous and evil to June. Her desperation makes her selfish, the antithesis of most religious teachings. The paradoxes are both absurd and never-ending.

Though Serena can be maddening, Strahovsky delivers a spellbinding performance. The actress is able to pull sympathy from the audience, despite her character's growing list of flaws. There's a power struggle inside of Serena as she comes to terms with her fluctuating role as a socialite-wife and her loss of status to the men around her. Strahovsky leans into Serena's villainous traits and stone-cold demeanor, but can turn heel and melt when it comes to Nichole's or June's plights. Some may not tolerate Serena's softer side in light of her past evil-doings, but that's what makes her such a polarizing yet powerful character. Strahovsky delivers a multi-faceted Emmy-worthy performance that we can hope eventually earns her the award (she was nominated for Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Drama Series last year but lost to Westworld's Thandie Newton).

The Handmaid's Tale's dystopian future might not be that "dystopian" after all; it could be a portent for what lies ahead, thanks to the connivance of people like Serena Waterford. Though she hides behind her religion, using it as a beacon to guide her, she's nowhere near moral. She idly stands by, devoid of voice, as women are abused, tortured, impregnated, and then ripped from their offspring. But when faced with the opportunity to get something she's only dreamt of, only then does she begin to act differently. Is she deserving of forgiveness? We'll have to see how the series shakes out. For now, she remains an unfeeling religious zealot weaponizing her faith to oppress others.

Veronica Mars may be just a forgotten "teen show" to some, but to others it's a razor-sharp neo-noir with snappy dialogue and a penchant for justice.

Revived from the dead six years after it first ran, it raised a whopping $5.7 million on Kickstarter to fund the eponymously-titled 2014 movie that turned the gone-too-soon series into a record-breaking viral phenomenon. Mars fans (known as "marshmallows") shelled out over $2.5 million in a single day proving that fans will pay in advance for content they want. And they wanted Veronica.

For three seasons, Mars served up skin-tight noir-mysteries with gritty realness, comedic quips, and a no-BS attitude. Premiering July 26 on Hulu, Kristen Bell and creator Rob Thomas are back as Mars Investigations reopens to hunt a spring break murderer wreaking havoc in the oceanside town of Neptune. Veronica will chase down felons for eight episodes, reuniting her with old friend Wallace (Percy Daggs III), her ace of a dad (Enrico Colantoni), and everyone's favorite villain-turned-softie, Logan Echolls (Jason Dohring).

Before Bell slides back behind that long-focus lens, here are five reasons why Veronica Mars is the real deal.

1. Veronica Mars delivers edge-of-your-seat mysteries

Veronica MarsHulu

When we first met Veronica, she was a high school junior figuring out who killed her best friend, Lily Kane, all while becoming a social pariah after her father, the sheriff, pointed the finger at Lily's dad. The show sprinkled subtle clues throughout each episode and as she inched her way closer to the truth, she found herself in danger like never before. Season 2 upped the ante with a bus crash that killed several of her classmates. When she found out that she was the target of the crash, she made it her mission to find out who was responsible, putting her at odds with Irish mobsters, a biker gang, and old acquaintances with deadly vendettas. The stakes are always high in ol' Neptune, but no matter the cost, Veronica tirelessly works her cases...especially when they're personal.

2. The show is a treatise on classism and social justice


In Veronica's world, the middle class barely exists. Led by the town's uber-rich and powerful, deemed the 09ers, Neptune is swarmed with high-status townies who flaunt their privilege and break the law at the expense of poorer constituents. Some 09ers achieve their status through crimes and fraud, and watching Veronica take them down is a treat. It's a weekly dose of what would happen if our government actually helped lower classes instead of helping the rich get richer. Veronica, however, is always there to even the playing field. Veronica for president!

She was also on hand to help destroy a serial rapist at Hearst College, fighting for the rights of victims and bringing guilty parties to justice. After all, she was a victim of rape herself. The show never glosses over difficult topics, but rather deep dives into them head first using Neptune scum as a microcosm of society.

3. Keith and Veronica's father/daughter relationship is the best there is

Veronica and Keith MarsHulu

Nothing tops the chemistry Bell has with her TV dad, Enrico Colantoni. With Veronica's alcoholic mom out of the picture (she skipped town with Veronica's college tuition fund), Keith and Veronica have lived outside of the town's social circle as outcasts from the Lily Kane aftermath. She's grown up relying on Keith, the one and only person who never left her side ("The hero is the one who stays.") and literally walked through fire for her.

Keith was there for her through her sexual abuse, bad-news boyfriends, and stood by her when his biological paternity was questioned. Watching these two lean on each other is both heartwarming and heartbreaking, hilarious and comforting. And we need more of it.

4. Bell's reunion with creator Rob Thomas

Since the show ended, Bell became a movie star ( Forgetting Sarah Marshall) and found a new home on the small screen with the incredibly brilliant and critically adored The Good Place. But to fans' delight, she's always ready for more Mars. Bell and Thomas remained in touch over the years, frequently kicking around new ideas to bring Veronica back to her Marshmallows. The movie was a great start (as were the two novels that followed), but Veronica Mars truly works best in a serialized format where the clues and mysteries can breathe. Bell and Thomas's collaboration has been the meat and potatoes of this series, and the fact that Bell is still down to revisit Neptune and taze some con men melts my marshmallow heart to fluff.

On returning, Bell said, "Ultimately, the decision came down to, 'Do I want a world where my girls grow up and Veronica Mars exists as a point of reference for them?' And I do. I want that world."

Thomas teased: "The movie was nostalgic. The Hulu limited series isn't going to be. Hardcore So-Cal noir. One big case. Eight episodes to tell the story. This is a detective show."

5. Veronica Mars. Period.

Veronica Mars in her officehulu

Veronica is tough as nails. She takes no shit. She makes criminals pay. She sticks up for the little guy. Despite being constantly kicked down herself, she finds a way to move forward toward the future, whatever that future may hold. She's the warrior you'd want your kids to look up to and the role model you can draw strength from. Her monologues can be dark, but they're rooted in reality and relatable to those moments where you have to dig deep to survive.

She says things like, "Tragedy blows through your life like a tornado, uprooting everything. Creating chaos. You wait for the dust to settle and then you choose. You can live in the wreckage and pretend it's still the mansion you remember. Or you can crawl from the rubble and slowly rebuild."

Veronica is proof that your past doesn't have to define you. Through public scandals, murdered friends, an absentee mom, date rape, social rejection, slut-shaming, and more, Veronica never wallows; she gets back up.

Veronica Mars is now available to stream on Hulu.