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Billed as a disaster mini-series, but so absurd as to feel more like a parody because it's unintentionally funny. First, we meet Jennifer and Fredrik, an unhappy couple dragged straight out of Disaster Movie Central Casting. Jennifer has two kids: Tobias (obligatorily on the spectrum) and Sara, whose sole purpose seems to be delivering the compulsory Netflix-approved gay romance - this time as a teenage subplot, with a side order of voyeuristic appeal for male viewers. Fredrik, meanwhile, is a potentially expendable white male and not even the kids' biological father, so naturally, nobody cares what happens to him.

Enter Marie, the improbably glamorous "researcher" who looks more suited to a runway than a volcanic expedition (another wink to the male audience), plus a gaggle of more believable but equally expendable scientists. Together, they plod through episodes as the volcano coughs up gas and ash at a pace slow enough to fit the plot's melodramatic detours.

Case in point: Sara runs away to board a plane to Madrid because her mom had a spat with Fredrik, and she's confused about her gay romance. A volcanic eruption might be imminent, but existential teenage angst takes priority. And where's the catastrophe, you ask? Nowhere, unless you count the writing.

Things peak (comedically) when Fredrik steals a minivan to save the day, only to be hilariously outpaced by the van's original owners running on foot. From there, it's a cascade of absurdity: prison shenanigans, chaotic boat escapes, and a daring attempt to flee the slowest volcanic eruption in recorded history.

Watch this one for the laughs - not the tension.

I've never been one to swoon over the Branagh-Thompson power duo, not even during their mid-90s reign as critics' golden couple. Here, they manage to be both at their most insufferable and their most attractive - a feat that almost deserves applause. But perhaps the real problem lies with Shakespeare himself: "Much Ado About Nothing" isn't exactly one of the Bard's greatest hits. The title is painfully accurate - this is a whole lot of blah blah blah with very little substance, featuring soppy love stories, petty animosities, and what feels like a second-rat "Taming of the Shrew".

Emma Thompson, resplendent in white, is almost convincing as a radiant maiden, but her endless declarations and incessant grimacing quickly dispel the illusion. Let's face it, she's less "blushing ingenue" and more "headmistress delivering a lecture." Branagh, meanwhile, gives us his signature performance as the smug, self-satisfied intellectual - only with fewer wrinkles. As for the younger lovers, Hero and Claudio, they're tolerable, if only because they wisely keep their lines to a minimum.

And then there's Michael Keaton, whose baffling turn as Dogberry managed to make me dislike him for the first time ever. Speaking of baffling, let's not ignore the casting of Denzel Washington as a Spanish prince - a bold choice that feels more like a shrug than a statement. But hey, at least the Tuscan settings are stunning, even if they're overshadowed by the film's overblown bombast.

In the end, Much Ado About Nothing is exactly what it promises: a lot of noise and very little worth listening to.

Baby Boom is less a film and more a relic of the 80s, lovingly preserved in sitcom amber. Diane Keaton stars as JC, a high-powered career woman whose life is derailed when a distant cousin thoughtfully saddles her with an orphaned baby. Naturally, this adorable cherub melts JC's heart, and instead of arranging an adoption like a sensible adult, she decides to keep the child and figure it out. Unfortunately babies and 80-hour workweeks don't mix, and the all-male corporate overlords predictably give JC the boot.

If there's a single shred of relevance in this movie, it's the moment JC realizes that selling your soul for money and endless hours isn't exactly the path to happiness. But just when you think the film might say something remotely meaningful, it takes a sharp turn into fairy-tale land. JC packs up her city life and moves to Vermont, where she's promptly rewarded for her brave escape from capitalism with... loneliness and misery. Luckily, Vermont comes equipped with a handsome local vet named Jeff, who is both charming and conveniently single, as well as an easy-to-launch baby food business that will soon make JC wildly successful.

If this all sounds too good to be true, that's because it is. The plot operates like a Hallmark fever dream, peppered with ridiculous, juvenile situations that range from mildly irritating to outright cringe. And let's not forget JC herself, who inexplicably reverts to blushing maiden mode whenever Jeff is around, batting her eyelashes like a teenager at prom. It's a bit painful to watch, especially given Keaton's age and talent, which deserves so much better than giggling coyly over dinner in a flannel-lined fantasyland.