Season 1 of The Morning Show was the good kind of TV stress. Like, phone-down, edge-of-couch, “did she really just say that on air?” kind of stress. It was about power and reckoning and the unglamorous fallout of ambition. And I’ve been chasing that high ever since.

Season 2 went full plate-spinning mode with covering COVID, cancel culture, climate anxiety, canceling cancel culture, and in trying to say everything, said very little. Season 3 was a tonal jigsaw puzzle that didn’t always fit together, but… I was entertained. It embraced the soap by stuffing in modern-day media panic, a shady billionaire, messy mergers, and a dozen moral crises, all scored to moody piano.

Now, two years after the UBA-NBN merger, Season 4 begins with something that’s been missing: direction. There’s a new network (UBN), a new dynamic, and finally, a sense that the writers know what kind of show they’re making again.

The Morning Show Season 4

Season 4 swings for the fences, veering between prestige drama and pure soap, and somehow lands in a place that is chaotic but wildly watchable. When it works, it really works, and when it doesn’t, it’s still never boring.

Pros

• Alex, Bradley, Cory and Yanko all get big, messy arcs that actually move the needle
• The show embraces its unhinged identity and delivers some of its most entertaining episodes yet
• The Wolf River storylines gives the season a clear through-line and a solid emotional anchor

Cons

• Tone whiplash still haunts the show and sometimes undercuts real emotional beats
• Celine's master-villain arc borders on cartoonish in places
• Several subplots (Chris, Ben, podcast detours) fade in and out without the payoff they deserve

Episode 1: My Roman Empire

The new network, UBN, is banking everything on its Olympics coverage and flashy new AI tools, but behind the scenes, trust is thin and nerves are fraying. Alex has stepped into a more executive role, Stella’s now CEO, and the show wastes no time throwing them both into the deep end. First with internal resistance to AI, then with an international defection plot that threatens to blow up the entire network.

The defection storyline, involving an Iranian teenage Olympian and her father, is as chaotic as it is watchable. It’s also the perfect reintroduction to Alex: composed on the surface, spiraling underneath, and once again walking the line between power and recklessness. Marion Cotillard is a strong addition as icy board member Celine Dumont, while Boyd Holbrook’s Brodie Hartman brings a much-needed dose of disruptive energy. Meanwhile, Bradley is barely present, still off the grid until a whistleblower message pulls her back into the game.

This is the first time in a long time that The Morning Show feels like it knows exactly what kind of mess it wants to be. It’s not exactly subtle, but it never was. What it is, though, is entertaining: glossy, timely, and chaotic in all the right ways. If the rest of the season can keep this balance, The Morning Show might finally deliver the kind of season it’s been trying to make since Season 1.

Episode 2: The Revolution Will Be Televised

This episode slows the fire to let cracks form. After the explosive defection opener, this week leans into fallout: deepfake rumors swirl around Alex, threatening to turn the Roya stunt into a media nightmare. Cory’s finally back to doing what he does best: making deals, stirring chaos, and pretending it’s all part of the plan. He’s sniffing around Stella for money like a man who knows exactly where the bodies are buried, and honestly, I trust him to blow up half the boardroom before episode 5.

What the episode lacks in big swings, it makes up for in carefully placed landmines. Cotillard’s Celine stays icily composed as pressure builds around her. Brodie lurks, still more threat than player, but clearly waiting for the moment to strike. Chris’s internal conflict gets more space this week, as she navigates motherhood alongside the creeping realization that UBN might not be as clean as it pretends. Alex, pulled in every direction, begins to show cracks again, not the emotional breakdown kind, but the quieter kind that surfaces when you realize you’re not the one holding the steering wheel anymore.

The pacing slows, but the grip tightens. Whispers about coverups, tech gone rogue, and internal politics set the tone, and the show finally feels like it’s letting things simmer instead of rushing to the next headline. The revolution may not be televised just yet, but UBN’s house of cards is starting to sway, and that’s when The Morning Show is most fun to watch.

Episode 3: Tipping Point

After two episodes of tension, threats, and beautifully timed walkouts, this one slows the pace. But it doesn’t feel like a slowdown so much as a recalibration. Most of the weight of the episode lands on Mia Jordan, who’s spent years climbing the ladder, only to find it leads nowhere. Watching her lose the Head of News position stings, because it’s such a missed opportunity and you can see how badly she wants it, and how much she’s built her life around it. And this week, that faith and trust she’s had in her work family snaps. She’s passed over in favor of Olympic golden boy Ben, and it cracks something in her.

Bradley and Chip, meanwhile, are deep in the weeds chasing UBA’s buried secrets. With a little help from Claire and a quietly panicked tip from Bethanne, they’re inching closer to something ugly hiding in the archives. Bradley isn’t back at UBN for anyone there. She’s got her own reasons, and whatever spark the job used to hold is long gone. Alex, on the other hand, is stuck revisiting the worst subplot from last season. Her run-in with Paul Marks adds very little, and it’s hard not to feel like we’re just keeping Jon Hamm on the board for the sake of it. Their argument is technically new, but emotionally it’s ground we’ve already walked. It ends the same way it always does: awkward, unresolved, and a little tired.

And then there’s Cory and Bradley. They finally cross the line, and it’s messy in all the ways you’d expect. After three seasons of emotional chicken and a catastrophically timed “I love you,” the show delivers the long-teased hookup and it’s…fine? There’s a whiff of chemistry here, but the moment doesn’t feel like a payoff. If anything, it feels complicated and slightly off. It might even be calculated. This episode isn’t the tipping point the title promises, but it’s a shift. Not a big one, mind you, more like a quiet pivot. Something’s coming, but we’re not quite there yet.

Episode 4: Love the Questions

This one opens with Rick Astley, a proposal gone sideways, and a full-blown dance number. Which is to say: The Morning Show is thriving in its chaos era, and I am absolutely here for it. Nestor Carbonell sells every second of Yanko’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” performance like his life depends on it, hips swaying, lights flashing, dancers twirling around him. It’s absurd, self-indulgent, and perfect. But the high fades fast when word gets out that Claire’s back in town, and suddenly Yanko is spiraling. The proposal doesn’t happen, a potential plane crash hijacks the morning broadcast, and by the time the aircraft lands safely, all we’re left with is Ariana’s quiet knowing smile. She saw it coming all along. If you’ve ever wanted to get emotionally rickrolled by a show that whiplashes between satire and soap, this is your episode.

Elsewhere, Alex is putting out fires from every direction. Her father shows up furious about plagiarism accusations resurfacing, and her attempt to smooth it over backfires hard. Watching her navigate that generational ego clash is oddly satisfying. She’s trying to keep the peace, but Martin’s bitterness burns through. Meanwhile, her newsroom is crawling with secrets. The Wolf River investigation is heating up, and Bradley finally loops her in—sort of. The scenes between them snap with tension, the kind that comes from betrayal that’s still too fresh. And even though Alex gives her the green light, there’s a visible “don’t make me regret this” hanging in the air.

And then there’s Cory. Always scheming, always ten steps ahead, until suddenly… he’s not. Celine makes it clear she wants to run the whole show, and she’s willing to trade power for intel. At first he resists. But after a few pointed conversations and a bruised ego, he drops the bomb: Stella and Miles are having an affair. The reveal is brutal, not just for what it exposes, but for what it costs. Cory’s clearly unraveling, and this move doesn’t feel calculated, it feels desperate. Watching him flinch at his own words is rare. For a man who’s always known how to spin the story, he’s suddenly looking like someone who doesn’t have one. Altogether, it’s the kind of episode that makes you wonder if the writers are winging it, but somehow, the chaos still clicks just enough to keep you watching.

Episode 5: Amari

This is The Morning Show at its rawest. For once, there’s no newsroom meltdown, no glitzy panel to crash, no tech billionaire looming in a helicopter. Just Chris Hunter on a podcast, telling a story she never meant to tell. The doping allegations start off as noise, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. She’s backed into a corner, and when she finally admits the truth, it’s devastating. Not just the confession, but the reason behind it. Her story about losing her son, and what that loss did to her body, her career, her sense of self, lands like a gut punch. Karen Pittman completely owns this episode. You believe her guilt. You believe her grief. And when she names her son, Amari, the show earns its title in the hardest way.

Mia, meanwhile, continues her power pivot with quiet precision. She’s no longer in UBA’s newsroom, but her presence is everywhere. She’s pulling strings, brokering interviews, and reminding Alex what it looks like when someone actually stands by their people. She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t scheme. She just moves differently now. Mia calls Alex out for the hypocrisy and control she exerts over the newsroom - especially how she demands transparency from others while keeping secrets of her own. It’s a quiet confrontation, but it hits hard. Mia knows what she’s worth, and she’s done waiting for someone else to recognize it. If UBN wants to lose her, fine. But they’re going to feel it.

Then there’s the fallout with Bradley and Cory, which crashes and burns exactly how it should. Cory catches on to Bradley’s investigation, and for once, he doesn’t have a slick line or spin to save himself. He’s not guilty in the way she thought, but he’s not clean either. The conversation is brutal. The breakup is worse. And just when you think it’s over, the FBI shows up at Bradley’s apartment. That part of the story isn’t sleeping quietly. For an episode that trades drama for depth,it lands right where it needs to.

Episode 6: If Then

Well, that escalated. What started as a slow simmer of corporate rot and unresolved tension finally blew the lid off. Stella Bak’s AI dream crashed and burned in full view of the press, the board, and everyone she’s ever stepped over to keep her seat warm. That onstage meltdown - with her digital clone casually outing workplace racism, talent manipulation, and her affair with the board chair’s husband - is the kind of public implosion you only get once per season, and they absolutely milked it. The AI angle has felt clunky all along, but this payoff was unhinged in all the right ways. Goodbye Stella, and maybe don’t trust the bot you trained with your deepest sins next time.

Meanwhile, Mia and Chris continue their joint glow-up tour. With Mia now pulling strings from the outside and Chris riding the high of public sympathy post-podcast, their leverage over UBN has never looked stronger. That confrontation between Mia and Stella earlier in the episode was a turning point; quiet but sharp. Mia doesn’t have to scream anymore; her power is measured now, and it lands harder because of it. And as for Miles? He chokes. Shocker. Of course he leaves Stella stranded at the airport. His absence says more than any monologue could, and it’s the kind of cowardice this show loves to hand its men.

Then there’s Cory. Rattled, exposed, and desperate enough to visit his mother, who’s casually planning her assisted suicide like it’s a yoga retreat. The way this show casually drops revelations is borderline deranged, but somehow, it works. Cory’s unraveling is slow but fascinating. Once again, it’s not about who’s right, it’s about who knows how to move the pieces. And this week, Celine proves she’s playing a longer game than anyone else. Halfway through the season, The Morning Show finally decides to light a match, and the fire is catching fast.

Episode 7: Person of Interest

Ben’s pathetic pizza party sets the tone for an episode where everyone behaves badly, then tries to pretend they didn’t. The karaoke, the cheap drinks, the chaos in the newsroom, it all feels like a pressure cooker that finally tips. Chip is the first to snap. One minute he is quietly watching Bradley interview victims of the Wolf River contamination, the next he is on stage screaming “You Don’t Own Me” at Alex like a man purging years of resentment. His rant hits hard because it is true. Alex is knee-deep in damage control, trying to shut down Kabir’s story, and Chip wants no part of it. It is messy, petty, and the most honest anyone has been with her in a long time.

Bradley spends the entire episode trapped between survival and betrayal. Her deal with the FBI catches up to her the moment Claire resurfaces with evidence that flips the Extinction Revolt narrative. Claire wants to take that evidence on air, Yanko thinks they can still outrun the government, and Bradley is quietly falling apart because she knows exactly how deep she is in. She makes the worst choice possible. She lies to protect herself, and watching the FBI drag Claire out of the studio while Bradley stands frozen in the hallway feels sickening. Yanko’s reaction is the knife twist. He is hurt, disappointed, and done. For once, Bradley cannot charm or argue her way out of the consequences. She torched a friendship and her own credibility in one blow.

Alex, meanwhile, stumbles into a different disaster, one that looks like victory but leaves a strange aftertaste. Bro kills Kabir’s exposé by letting the reporter profile his own traumatic childhood instead. It is self-serving, but it saves Alex, and the gratitude somehow turns into tequila and a hookup she regrets halfway through. The morning after is pure Alex Levy discomfort. Bro is sincere, maybe even sweet, and she pushes him out the door faster than she can think. Around her, Mia is still climbing in power, Chris is still carrying guilt, and the network is still rotting from the inside. This episode is full of tiny self-preservations that leave big bruises, and every character feels a little smaller by the time the credits roll.

Episode 8: The Parent Trap

This is the episode where everyone’s childhood damage drags itself into the room, sits down, and refuses to leave. Alex wakes up to a drunken father, a viral scandal, and the complete demolition of her White House interview before she can even taste the win. It is brutal to watch Martin spiral into public humiliation, but the private unraveling is worse. Their confrontation in her apartment cuts deeper than anything this show has done all season. The blame, the resentment, the quiet cruelty he has carried for decades, it all spills out. When he admits he never wanted her, it lands with the weight of a lifetime. Alex has handled egos, executives, billionaires, and an entire corporate implosion. None of it prepared her for this.

Cory’s storyline, somehow, is even darker. His mother’s decision to die at home plays out like a nightmare in slow motion. He tries to stall her, tries to convince her there is still something worth holding onto, but she is already gone in spirit. The way he leaves to get the wig, only to return and find her still and silent, makes him feel painfully small. Cory Ellison, who has spent four seasons performing power, is suddenly just a boy in a room with the one person he cannot manipulate back to life. His meltdown with Celine later feels less like indulgence and more like the only way he knows to keep from cracking in half.

Everyone else becomes background noise because the episode was never really about the network. It was about the parents who shaped these people and the damage that keeps circling back. Alex loses a dream she fought hard to earn because her father burned the ground beneath her. Cory loses the anchor of his entire identity and spirals into a night that he will not remember clearly but will still haunt him. For once, the show strips away its grandstanding and sensationalism and lets its characters break. It hits with a quiet heaviness that feels earned.

Episode 9: Un Bel Di

At this point, The Morning Show has fully evolved into a geopolitical fever dream, and honestly, I respect the confidence. Bradley is suddenly stuck in Belarus, Chip is sneaking files around like he works for MI6, and Alex is negotiating with lawyers, billionaires, and her own panic. The moment Paul Marks re-enters the picture to help broker a deal with a Russian oligarch at the opera, the show sails straight past absurdity into a kind of prestige soap opera bliss. Alex and Paul plotting in a coat closet while Puccini blasts in the background is wild, but the chemistry works. The show knows exactly what it is doing when it lets them stand two inches apart talking about greasing the wheels of an international hostage exchange. It is nonsense, but it is fun nonsense.

Meanwhile, Celine is playing a much smarter, colder game than anyone around her seems ready for. Alex and Chip think they are running a rescue mission, but Celine has already mapped out every angle and pulled every string she needs to keep Bradley’s investigation buried. Her scenes this week are sharp and unsettling. She is done pretending to care, and the mask slips in tiny, perfect increments. Cory, in a haze of grief and terrible judgment, walks straight into her trap. Watching him fall for her manufactured vulnerability feels like a warning about what happens when power and loneliness mix. He is not built to see past the performance, and it costs Bradley dearly.

By the time the opera deal collapses and Bradley is dragged deeper into the system, the episode settles into a kind of bleak inevitability. Everyone is operating in their own interest, and she is the collateral damage. Alex pushes as hard as she can, Paul bends every rule he has left, and none of it matters because the real decision was made in a boardroom long before they arrived in Minsk. It is an episode that stretches credibility in every direction, but somehow still lands an emotional hit. Watching the rescue crumble at the final moment hurts. Watching Alex hear it in real time hurts more.

Season Finale: Knowing Violation

The finale goes all in on the operatic chaos this season has been flirting with, and weirdly, it works. Bradley has spent twenty-eight days in Belarus, half-awake under fluorescent torture and refusing to give up her source, and somehow that stubborn resolve feels like the most grounded thing in the episode. Back home, Alex and Chip are running on fumes and panic, fighting a State Department that can barely be bothered. The world is already moving on from Bradley Jackson, which feels painfully accurate. But the Wolf River files she managed to send out are the spark they need. The moment Chip hands them to Alex, you feel the whole show tilt toward something bigger, something that might actually make noise outside UBN’s glass bubble.

Celine, of course, is doing everything in her power to keep that noise from ever reaching daylight. She has been quietly planting traps all season, and this episode lets them snap shut one by one. She deepfaked Alex. She nudged Belarus. She pulled the strings behind Bradley’s stalled release. She even manages to get Alex to the brink of resignation, which is a power move even for her. But she underestimates Chip, and she definitely underestimates Cory. He is a wreck, grieving and furious, but once he sits down with the two EPA reports and realizes exactly what his mother did to clean up his career, something cracks open. Watching him piece together the cover-up hits harder than expected. It is the first time all season he stops performing and lets the truth in, even when the truth hurts.

And then the whole thing catches fire. Alex sues. Mia makes sure the network covers it. Celine storms through the building like someone kicked over her empire. Cory picks the exact right moment to call, gently leads her into threatening Bradley’s life, and lets Alex hold a mic to the phone like she is about to bless us with a TED Talk. It is messy, campy, satisfying television. By the time Celine is on a jet back to France and Alex is on Paul’s plane heading to Minsk, the show finally feels like it has earned its chaos. The reunion on the tarmac is soft and emotional in a way that cuts through all the noise. Bradley is free, Alex stands in the truth for once, and UBN is about to look very different. For a season that swung wildly from satire to soap, this is the rare finale that lets the absurdity and the heart land at the same time.

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