SERIES REVIEW – His & Hers spends a long time acting like a merely decent, two-perspective murder mystery, and then the last episode suddenly decides to go for the throat. It’s the kind of ending that can make you sit there afterward, replaying earlier scenes in your head because the show just dropped an answer that’s bold enough to feel borderline reckless.

The show’s best trick is how insistently it pushes you to pick a version of the truth – and then reminds you, over and over, that everyone has a reason to bend it. Early on, it doles out information with a steady hand, but the momentum wobbles in the middle stretch, where the story sometimes feels like it’s simply moving from beat to beat instead of tightening the screws. It’s still watchable, just not consistently gripping.

Not Just “Fine” – The Finale Makes You Rethink Everything

At first, I thought I’d finish this and mostly shrug: fine for a rainy weekend, easy to binge, easy to forget. Then I hit the finale and realized I had a lot more to say – only the most important parts are exactly what you can’t fully get into without spoilers. What I can say is this: the ending isn’t random. If you look back at Episode 1, there are just enough breadcrumbs to make it plausible, and you’ll still probably never see it coming.

And yes, there’s a creative fingerprint here, but it doesn’t need to swallow the entire conversation. William Oldroyd co-runs the series with Dee Johnson, and between his heavy involvement across the season and the way the story ultimately flips itself inside out, you can feel an instinct for rug-pulls. It reminded me of his film Eileen, which hit me the same way: the twist lands with a mix of “that’s wild” and “why does this feel so unsettling?” (I haven’t seen Lady Macbeth, so I can’t speak to that one.)

Two leads, two viewpoints, and nobody you’re required to like

Anna Andrews (Tessa Thompson) is having a brutal year. After a family tragedy, she separated from her husband, detective Jack Harper (Jon Bernthal), and she’s been away from her news anchor job long enough that her replacement Lexy (Rebecca Rittenhouse) doesn’t feel temporary anymore. When a woman is murdered in Anna’s hometown of Dahlonega, Georgia, Anna is pulled back into investigative reporting just as Jack is officially assigned to the same case. From there, suspicion between the exes feels inevitable.

The audience understands the killer probably isn’t Anna or Jack, but the show doesn’t exactly beg you to root for either of them. They’re written to be prickly on purpose – spiteful, manipulative, and occasionally so self-sabotaging you want to pause the episode and talk to them. Thompson and Bernthal make that unpleasantness compelling up to a point, and Anna’s personal baggage – including her connection to the victim, Rachel (Jamie Tisdale) – explains a lot about why she moves the way she does. But the scripts also lean on obvious, signpost-y dialogue that spells things out, as if the show doesn’t trust viewers to connect the dots.

The series also spends a lot of time on Anna and Jack’s relationship wreckage, and I never found that material especially interesting. Jack’s clumsy efforts to look less suspicious kept pulling me out of the drama; those beats would play better in a cringe comedy. The supporting cast is uneven. Jack’s assistant Priya (Sunita Mani) is easily the most compelling presence, mostly because she’s the one character who consistently shows competence and common sense. The low point is Chris Bauer as Clyde, Rachel’s pizza-mogul husband – whether it’s the writing or the performance, not a single line sounds like something a real person would say.

Big themes, shallow digging, and a finale that risks everything

As the mystery develops, His & Hers brushes up against a long list of serious topics, including grief, domestic violence, infidelity, race, caring for a parent with dementia, high school bullying, sexual assault, revenge justifications, and the nature of truth. I can’t go deep on specifics without spoilers, but the show also doesn’t go especially deep on most of them. Some threads function as red herrings, while others are treated as important without delivering much real insight.

In the final episode, the series finally shows its hand – and it does it in a sensational, high-risk way. That’s where the Eileen comparison came back for me: parts made my eyes roll (one scene plays like a The Naked Gun reboot gag done completely straight), and other moments made my jaw drop because the show actually went there. Is it “good” TV in a clean, satisfying sense? I don’t really think so. Is it memorable? Absolutely.

Worth It For the Twist – But It’s Not an Easy Ride

Is it worth watching just for the big surprise ending? Maybe – if you can handle the sexual violence material on the road to that reveal, and if you’re not too bothered by some of the weirder implications that come with the wrap-up. It won’t work for everyone, but it’s not the kind of finale you forget overnight.

One last minor note I didn’t know where else to put: in one scene, Jack asks his sister (Marin Ireland) to put Sesame Street on for her daughter Meg (Ellie Rose Sawyer). “That ain’t even on anymore, Einstein,” Zoe replies. But fans know Sesame Street was never actually taken off the air despite headlines about potential cancellation, and a new season launched on Netflix a few months ago. A mistake, or awkward cross-promotion?

-Gergely Herpai ” BadSector”-