I’ve been a fan of Only Murders in the Building since the very first episode, and I remain loyal even as the series begins to show signs of wear. In fact, I have to admit, I remember voicing concern about fatigue back in season two — but then it surprised me with narrative boldness completely unprecedented on television, leaving me on my knees apologizing for ever questioning its creativity. That said, I do agree with The Guardian’s review that the creative peak now seems to be behind us — with season three as the absolute high point, and still some brilliant moments in season four — but I disagree with their take that Meryl Streep doesn’t work in comedy. To me, her timing is impeccable, and amid the uncertainty of where the story is going, she remains one of its brightest presences. I’ll say more about this in the recaps, to avoid spoilers in this first review. On the other hand, she remains one of its brightest presences.

The magic was all there in the premiere, when the true crime podcast craze was at its peak. The show captured that cultural moment with intelligence and wit: three characters who would never otherwise be friends come together through the improbable and transform their lives in the process. Since then, every season has delivered not only the “main crime” but also experimental episodes that stood out. Season two might have felt colder, but it gifted us with unforgettable chapters, like the one told entirely through the perspective of hearing loss. Season three was a creative explosion — musical, theatrical, dramatic, and storytelling at its best. Season four dove into the metalinguistic playfulness of cinema, balancing Charles’s grief, Mabel’s growth, and Oliver’s endless theatrical chaos.

Season five begins with the feeling of a farewell. Its central arc leans on Charles’s loneliness, as he watches his friends move on while his own life feels empty; on Mabel, more confident and integrated than ever; and on Oliver, still as messy as his relationship with Loretta. The starting point is promising: Lester the doorman’s death sets off an investigation that begins with nods to the New York mafia and direct references to The Godfather. But soon it spirals into deadly billionaire games, jealousies, and melodramatic performances — antics that once felt inventive now lean towards repetition.

What sets this season apart is the sheer number of new characters and the return of some familiar faces. Between eccentric heirs, glamorous widows, unlikely suspects, and old acquaintances rekindling memories, the plot sprawls in many directions. It demands more attention from the audience: speculating about the killer is still fun, but never has it felt like so much work. For the first time in five seasons, it seems the “whodunnit” is almost a side note rather than the driving force. By episode nine, I had my theories, but the central mystery felt less important than the lingering theme of farewells.

The issue isn’t repeating formulas — that has always been part of the show’s charm — but no longer daring to push boundaries. Each past season gave us at least one episode that broke structure, reinvented language, and played with narrative. This time, nothing of the sort. The heart of the series still beats, but more faintly.

Even so, Only Murders in the Building remains irresistible. It’s still charming, still funny, still anchored by the charisma of Martin, Short and Gomez. But by circling around goodbyes and recycling the same tricks without freshness, the series feels closer to its own end — and for those who love it deeply, it hurts to imagine a farewell that arrives with less boldness than it deserves.