Dexter

At a time when the word "series" is becoming almost an annoying concept, from the depths of inconspicuousness comes a stylish blockbuster that is three levels above its contemporaries. Dexter - the absolutely divine Michael C. Hall - will wrap anyone interested in his adventures around his finger with his cynically black-humored look into the soul of a cold-blooded killer who wears a police badge around his neck. The series then radically changes its image after this brilliant maneuver into a detective story that will make the viewer taut as a string, to reveal, piece by piece, more secrets, the discovery of which not only brings no relief but also, through its subtlety, leaves the audience in a state of total consternation, from which it only wakes up when the credits of the last episode roll. After the end of the first season, I can safely say that in the current flood of series, Dexter is among the very best! There are certainly things to criticize in the subsequent seasons (the predictable crime storylines, underdeveloped characters, lapses in logic), but Dexter's reflections on life (the fantastic flirtation with religion and faith in the sixth season) are simply incredible and keep pushing the series forward. Unfortunately, the final eighth season is something that shifts the series into the science fiction genre, written by the screenwriters of a family soap opera. The development of the main character was fascinating until someone rubber-stamped the creators' approval of Dexter's lobotomy. (21.12.2006)