Let me preface this by saying that if “Fear the Walking Dead” wanted to prove it had nothing left in the tank—no shred of narrative originality or dimensional character development—it’s certainly achieved that. This spin-off series feels like a rehashed casserole of old “The Walking Dead” plotlines, with an extra sprinkle of stale empowerment tropes that bludgeon you over the head rather than convince you of their authenticity. Don’t get me wrong: strong female leads can be amazing. However, this show’s approach to showcasing female strength feels less like a well-written narrative and more like a ham-fisted exercise in ticking boxes and making every male character look like they’re competing in a marathon of cluelessness.

From the moment the first episode staggers onscreen, “Fear the Walking Dead” seems utterly terrified—ironic, given the name—of allowing its men to be anything but incompetent or flat-out disposable. The female characters dominate every scenario, not by outsmarting equally clever male antagonists or allies, but by virtue of the writing force-feeding us lopsided characterizations. This kind of hackneyed scripting doesn’t highlight feminism; it cheapens it. Rather than craft complex individuals, the show often defaults to lazy stereotypes: men who can’t get their act together and women who correct every ill with an eye-roll and a scornful lecture. It’s less an ensemble and more a joyless, lopsided lecture on how to marginalize half of your cast.

Beyond its gender politics, let’s talk about the plot—or rather, the endless absence of one. The show recycles the same old survival tropes, shuffling from one dead-end location to the next, each encounter feeling like a bad rerun. The characters make bafflingly poor decisions that don’t feel organic or revealing but simply serve the writers’ need to keep a “conflict” going. It’s a never-ending cycle of nonsensical stand-offs, unnecessary melodrama, and forced moralistic moments that have all the subtlety of a zombie gnawing on a traffic cone.

As for the production value, it’s nothing to write home about. While AMC can deliver moody visuals and grimy sets like it’s nobody’s business, the show’s aesthetics are the best thing it has to offer—and that’s a pretty low bar. Even the action sequences feel repetitive and drained of creativity. It’s as if the camera operators got as bored as we did and just decided to press “record” on a carousel of random zombies. Meanwhile, dialogue is delivered with such contrived earnestness that you start to pity the actors. They’re good performers stuck in a narrative noose, forced to recite lines that do little more than remind you why you stopped caring three episodes ago.

In short, “Fear the Walking Dead” is the TV equivalent of stale bread. The show desperately wants to come off as progressive and edgy but ends up feeling like a shrill echo chamber of worn-out clichés and one-dimensional character dynamics. It’s about as innovative as a broken lawnmower and about as balanced as a three-legged chair. If you’re looking for a world brimming with nuance, character growth, or genuinely empowering storytelling for anyone (men or women), you won’t find it here. Instead, you’ll find a sloppy, man-bashing, condescending mess that fails to deliver meaningful tension or insight. Watch at your own risk, and maybe keep the remote handy so you can escape this undead snoozefest when it starts gnawing on your brain.