75 Best TV Shows with A-List Actors

Set in 1980s Hollywood, Winning Time doesn’t just borrow from the decade, it imbibes it in its very fiber. It’s dizzyingly fast-paced and dazzlingly glamorous, pulling out all the stops from the cinematography, which employs a hybrid of film and tube camera, to the all-star cast, which includes Sally Field, Adrien Brody, and Jason Segel. It’s a technical feat, but amazingly, it also excels as a character study for Lakers legends Magic Johnson (Quincy Isaiah) and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (Solomon Hughes), as well as the team’s charismatic owner, Jerry Buss (John C. Reilly). The writers go in-depth into their histories and weave a story so gripping, you can’t help but binge all 10 episodes in one go (and research the truth right after). If you’re an NBA fan, you might be disappointed to know that a big chunk of the script doesn’t adhere to real events, but you will no doubt be delighted to watch basketball in the way it was intended to be watched: riveting and nail-biting, with a lot of drama and glamor to match. 

It may have never reached the heights of popularity that other prestige antihero dramas of its time did, but The Americans stayed true to itself for six incredibly consistent seasons. In the vein of “real” spy shows and films, it’s much more deliberately paced, with the bulk of the drama taking place not through shootouts or technical wizardry but through the gradually fraying relationships between characters and their respective beliefs. As the Cold War stretches on for Philip and Elizabeth Jennings (played by real-life couple Matthew Rhys and Keri Russell), the former begins to feel increasingly drained by all the violence he’s committed, wishing for a mundane American life; while the latter maintains a steely dedication to her mission, which also puts her loved ones in harm’s way.

Throughout The Americans’ run, it creates a stunningly detailed tapestry of both Soviets and Americans agents giving themselves over to causes that they still don’t fully understand. But perhaps even more so than a story of loyalty to one’s nation, it becomes a story about the constant demands of marriage and of making connections in a dangerous world despite the risk of betrayal. It never announces its themes loudly, but by the end the weight of these characters’ isolation and disillusionment is unlike anything else you could experience on TV.

As a mystery-driven crime drama, Mare of Easttown treads pretty familiar territory without necessarily digging too deeply into the sociopolitical context it seems to hint at throughout its seven-episode run. But as the miniseries’ focus shifts from the usual procedural elements to more personal drama among the townspeople of Easttown and certain past events they haven’t moved on from, the series gets to evolve as well. The details of who was responsible for the inciting crime are ultimately less important than the conditions in the town’s history that led to the crime in the first place, whether by consequence or by fate. Some reveals here may come off as anticlimactic to some, but the series ultimately has more on its mind that’s definitely worth paying attention to.

When Elle Fanning and Nicholas Hoult play power-hungry monarchs, what else more is there to say? The actors are very much in their element here, having already perfected similar roles in many films prior (one of them being The Favourite, which was co-written by The Great’s creator). They are the picture of elegance and royalty, and we need no convincing that they can hold 18th-century court.

Which is why when The Great takes us into its true, crude depths, they transform from simply credible to incredible. Aided by a wonderfully offbeat cast and the one-two punch of a hilarious and raunchy script, Fanning and Hoult deliver splendidly.

To be sure, this satirical show is not always funny. Sometimes, it takes dark turns to underscore the cruelty of the era, and other times it is genuinely moving in its drama. But this revisionist take on Russia’s Last Empress will always be a ball to watch, if only to see the artifice of aristocracy be stripped off and mocked with acerbic wit and might.

Based on true events, Black Bird follows James Keene (Taron Egerton), a narcotics dealer sentenced to ten years in jail. He makes a deal with the authorities to reduce his sentence, but in return, James has to befriend their deadliest convict—a child murderer played by the excellently terrifying Paul Walter Hauser—and extract a confession out of him before it’s too late.

If you’re a fan of gripping crime thrillers, anti-heroes, star-studded shows, and watching British actors do a perfect American accent, then Black Bird is right up your alley. The miniseries is also an excellent showcase of topnotch performances; Egerton and Hauser bring the house down in their excellently staged two-handers, Greg Kinnear is reliably sturdy as the determined detective, and Ray Liotta in one of his final roles is devastating as an ailing father. 

While the dual lead performance concept can easily be a recipe for disaster at times (cf. Gemini Man), the always amazing J.K. Simmons (Whiplash) shows everybody how it’s done in this tense sci-fi thriller. When the risk pays off, it pays off big time! Set in a counterfactual 1980s East Berlin, Counterpart unfolds in two parallel worlds that were bridged by East German scientists. When a flu pandemic kills millions in the first world, the two worlds enter a Cold War-like state.

Both Simmons’ characters (Simmonses?) work in the institution (“interface”) that oversee this bridge between earths: Howard Silk, a low-level employee who transmits messages he doesn’t understand, and Howard Silk Prime, a clandestine agent working for the parallel world’s interface institution. While this may seem like an overly complicated plot, don’t fret. To be sure, Counterpart is complex, twisted, and raises some big questions, but it’s also a gripping political thriller where everyone tries to kill somebody somewhere, like Bourne. It’s the best of both worlds – pun intended. But if you’re into the philosophical aspects of sci-fi, screenwriter Justin Marks does not disappoint, offering some new answers to the age-old question of what makes us who we are: nature or nurture.

What if the UK’s MI5 was run not by sleek secret agents, but rather, a bunch of second-rate, hand-me-down spies? Slow Horses gives us a taste of that as it centers on Slough House, a division of MI5 that serves as a detention center for their smart but hopelessly damaged goods.

In this six-part miniseries, the Slough House agents reluctantly exchange their humdrum duties for a big and unexpected case. Led by the eccentric Jackson Lamb (a very funny and effective Gary Oldman), they track a group of Right-wing terrorists and their hostage before it’s too late. With its brisk pace, endearingly bumbling characters, and deft balance of suspense and humor, Slow Horses might just be one of the finest thrillers out there.

“My father took me to see Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and from that day forward, the movies have been the church of my choice.” So begins The Last Movie Stars, a documentary following the lives of Hollywood legends and inseparable sweethearts Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward—written, narrated, and directed by Ethan Hawke.

The six-part docuseries is as much a story of Hawke and his love for cinema as it is of Newman and Woodward. It may sound indulgent to some viewers, but the series is all the richer for it. Hearing Hawke talk about his love for this couple is like hearing your good friend fanboy over his ultimate idols—the sheer giddiness is simply irresistible.

Hawke brings together a star-studded cast to read long-forgotten interviews (George Clooney plays Newman and Laura Linney plays Woodward), and the result is a delightful, nostalgic ode to Hollywood’s most unforgettable couple.

Plenty of things go on between love and separation, marriage and divorce. There is the pleasant high of intimacy, the devastating low of heartbreak, the frustration of misunderstanding, and the bliss of friendship. Fleishman is in Trouble explores all this from the point of view of recent divorcees Toby and Rachel Fleishman, but interestingly, this POV is narrated by their friend, Libby. The result is a multifaceted take on love, entertaining and enlightening in its nuance. Based on the bestselling book by essayist Taffy Brodesser-Akner, the series is also strikingly written. Whether it’s Libby’s storytelling you’re hearing, Toby’s witticisms, or Rachel’s dagger-sharp remarks, prepare to cry and laugh in equal measure.  

In a case of perfect casting, Jesse Eisenberg plays the neurotic Toby, Claire Danes his unhappy wife, and Lizzy Caplan their quick-witted friend. Other sitcom greats make appearances too, like Adam Brody and Josh Radnor, making Fleishman Is in Trouble highly watchable on all fronts. 

From the very start, Poker Face lays out all its cards—it shows us who dies and in the hands of whom. That is how an episode always opens, but in each case, we’re in a different corner of rural America, bumping elbows with different folks. That’s because our unwitting detective, the human lie detector Charlie (Natasha Lyonne) is on the run from a crime syndicate. So with nothing but her trusty car and the clothes on her back, she races through the US while making friends and enemies along the way.

There is a pattern to the story, but the thrill lies not in seeing when Charlie inevitably solves the case but in how she does it, which is full of heart and wry humor. Lyonne is absolutely magnetic, and her performance is only one of the show’s many hit-making elements. With a star-studded cast, beautiful Americana backdrop, and masterful editing (whose camerawork and coloring recall the show it references, Columbo), Poker Face sure is a trip to watch.

A five-part mini-series where the camera rarely leaves Benedict Cumberbatch, enabling him to deliver possibly the best performance of his career. He plays Patrick Melrose, an autobiographical character from renown British writer Edward St Aubyn. A wealthy man who in the first scene of the show hears about his father’s death, Patrick tries to get his act together to go retrieve his father’s ashes. However, a nasty drug habit and a dark past stand in the way of sobriety. This is a fast-paced and impeccably-acted show with a solid supporting cast that includes Jennifer Jason Leigh and Hugo Weaving.

Steve Martin, Selena Gomez, and Martin Short star in this fun series about three strangers who suddenly find themselves in the middle of a murder scene. As true crime fans, they form an unexpected bond and run an investigation—all while recording a podcast. In between funny and poignant bits, they soon realize a murderer might be among them; they attempt to get to the truth of the matter before it’s too late.

Martin, Gomez, and Short make for an endearing bumbling trio of detectives, and with great charm and balance, Only Murders in the Building succeeds in serving mystery, empathy, and true delight in short-but-sweet episodes.

It’s often said that history is told by the victors. Thankfully, this isn’t the case in The Good Lord Bird, which tracks the tumultuous events preceding the Civil War, as led by real-life abolitionist John Brown (Ethan Hawke). 

Some viewers might already be familiar with the story of how Brown “saved” slaves, but with Black teenager Henry (Joshua Caleb Johnson) as the narrator, history is repositioned and recounted through a fresh new lens. Nuanced questions about slavery, abolition, and even the revered Brown himself are brought up by Henry and his kin, such as: how much of the movement is driven by justice and how much of it by guilt? Should the white savior be absolved or are his intentions inevitably marred by ego?

Accompanying this thought-provoking tale are richly detailed costumes and backdrops, impressive cameos by historical and celebrity figures, and of course, career-defining performances by Hawke and newcomer Johnson. 

That The Curse is squirm-inducingly awkward won’t be news to anyone who’s watched a Nathan Fielder show before, but TV’s king of cringe digs his heels in on that approach here. The Curse chronicles the making of another show: HGTV’s inelegantly named “Flipanthropy,” which follows Fielder’s Asher and wife Whitney Siegel (Emma Stone) as they perform (the operative word) good deeds in a struggling New Mexico town. Flipanthropy is also a means through which the well-to-do white couple can shill the eco-friendly homes they’re gentrifying the town with — a galling conflict of interest that plays as a running satire of TV.

The uneasy tension between what the Siegels say they want to do versus what they actually do is the heart of the show. In true Fielder fashion, their hypocrisy is revealed through excruciatingly awkward, tortuously long scenes takes, such as the one that gives the show its title (the socially inept Asher angers a little girl, who puts a curse on him). This scene is also an example of the insane left takes The Curse constantly takes, which speak to Fielder’s ability to make his shows feel like they’re falling apart all while building to towering complexity. Suffice it to say, there’s nothing else like this on TV.

It’s hard not to be swept away by the epicness of Masters of the Air. Produced by Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks, with the first four episodes directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga (No Time to Die, True Detective), it’s made sure to flex its massive $250-million budget. Everything is accounted for here, from the sweeping and historically accurate production design to the stacked cast of rising male stars (Oscar nominees Austin Butler and Barry Keoghan easily steal the show). Even the rousing score and sound design, while bordering on melodrama at times, build up tension and add a premium air to it. It’s a visual and sonic feast bolstered by upstanding performances and an endearing show of brotherhood. Whenever it risks being propagandistic or misguidedly patriotic, it’s the believable relationship between the boys and their grave understanding of war that ground it and give it heart. And of course, the air combats are edge-of-your-seat thrilling. Like Band of Brothers and The Pacific before it, it’s a visceral entry in the genre of World War II must-sees.

If all live-action superhero media stopped here, it would’ve been a triumphant conclusion. Carving its own path from the subversive Alan Moore classic and still so much gutsier than most superhero films and TV shows, Damon Lindelof’s Watchmen miniseries continues interrogating the idea of powerful masked vigilantes to explore institutionalized racism, America’s history of anti-Black violence, and even the phenomenon of white supremacy in “nerd culture” fandom. It’s an incendiary take on a genre that’s all-too-often reduced to mindless fantasy action, and it never tries to beat other properties at their own game—relying on constantly building intrigue and fantastic characters to tell its story.

But even if you’re not familiar with the original Watchmen story, the series should have enough style and intricate plotting for everybody. A pulsating musical score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross; gritty (but not flavorless) art direction; and powerful performances from Regina King, Tim Blake Nelson, and Jean Smart, among others complete this vision of a nation plunged into chaos due to collective unresolved trauma. All this makes for viewing that’s never difficult, but demands trust and attention even as the story branches off to places that seem at odds with itself. How often can you say that about a superhero story these days?

Fans of sketch comedy, documentaries, and the always-hilarious duo of Bill Hader and Fred Armisen are in for a treat with Documentary Now!, a delightful miniseries that both satirizes and pays tribute to the non-fiction format. Each episode parodies a particular documentary and tone, bringing the comedians and their ever-revolving roster of guest stars to different eras, regions, costumes, accents, and more. 

With SNL veterans Hader and Armisen at the helm, this mockumentary is sure to amuse and impress even the most stoic among us, if not for the show’s humor, then for its sharp attention to detail and endlessly creative references.

The bizarre case of Kathleen Peterson’s death, which has yet to be fully resolved to this day, has been the subject of many a media article. The press covered it relentlessly when it all started in 2001, then a critically-acclaimed documentary was released in 2004. This was followed up with a sequel in 2018, and now more than 20 years after the deed, a dramatization has come out in the form of a miniseries. You’d be forgiven for thinking the latter couldn’t possibly have anything new to offer, but you would also be wrong. In fact, the series is a masterclass in storytelling. Led by an a-list cast (of which Colin Firth is the absolute standout) and told with such layered depth, The Staircase is a must-watch not just for true crime but for film and TV fans everywhere. 

Utilizing time jumps and crafty transitions, The Staircase isn’t set at one particular time, which is fitting considering the trial lasted for 16 years. It also isn’t centered on just the mystery or the family, but instead is just as interested in the making of the 2004 documentary that introduced (and humanized) the case to an even wider sect of people. If you’re looking for a neat ending or some form of satisfying retribution, you won’t find it here. But you will be getting an engrossing meditation on truth and its elusiveness

Watching the trailers, and even the first ten minutes, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off just seems like a rehash of the prominent Edgar Wright film, especially since his cast reprise their roles in this new anime. However, when that episode ends, even the most ardent fans of both the film and the original comic book series would have no idea where this would go. It’s a fearless, daring approach, from the original creator Bryan Lee O’Malley, and it’s met with the wackiest, spectacular animation from Japanese animation studio Science SARU, remixing O’Malley’s designs with 8-bit, fighting video game action.

Taking the violence and offbeat comedy of the original movie and adding constantly expanding narratives on top of it, Noah Hawley’s TV adaptation of Fargo arguably becomes an even richer portrait of the dark side of human nature hiding inside modern, polite society. All four complete seasons of the anthology series (with a fifth currently ongoing at the time of this writing) are an exercise in seeing how many dominoes can topple from a series of mismanaged coincidences. The resulting chaos then becomes more of a reflection on the kind of facades these characters would rather maintain for the sake of some semblance of control.

And perhaps with the exception of the show’s ambitious but sluggish fourth season, every Fargo story is dripping in suspense and cinematic polish, with plenty of chilling visuals and intricate music and sound design—not to mention ensemble casts who are almost always at the height of their powers. Each season has at least one stand-out, be it Alison Tolman and Billy Bob Thornton in season one, Carrie Coon and David Thewlis in season three, Ben Whishaw in season four, and practically everybody from season two. These are all actors who understand exactly how to inhabit the world Hawley has deepened, through wry humor and surprising pathos.

The incredible script for this Hulu-produced series comes courtesy of Lawrence Wright, who wrote the Pulitzer-winning book the series is based on, and Dan Futterman, the Oscar-nominated writer who gave us Capote. It is an eye-opening, semi-fictional account of how the CIA and the FBI took conflicting approaches to counteract Al-Qaeda in the lead-up to 9/11, withholding information from each other, and obstructing a unified strategy to combat terror. The disagreements between the two security services are numerous and the relationship between their staff is hostile. At the top, Jeff Daniels plays John O’Neill, the seasoned head of the FBI’s Counterterrorism Center, while Peter Sarsgaard stars as Martin Schmidt, the chief of the CIA’s respective facility, who are both amazing. Then there’s Ali Soufan, played by Tahar Rahim, who is one of only handful FBI agents who speak Arabic back in 1998, just three years before the Towers fell. With all this testosterone flying about, the women in this show are marginalized to the fairly weak romantic storylines, but other than that the series gets a lot of stuff right. Writing, acting, and action are on point and make The Looming Tower a gripping as well as insightful watch.

Though it sets itself up as a mystery series, the tense and dramatically heavy Save Me avoids easy questions and focuses instead on how a crisis can affect different members of a community in equally painful ways. The show isn’t immune from random coincidences and contrivances, but even these little twists in the plot point force us to reevaluate how we think about these characters from moment to moment. This group of people that comes together when a teenage girl disappears isn’t made up of the most heroic individuals; in fact, it becomes difficult to root for some of the most prominent characters due to sins that they’re still trying to atone for.

This is what elevates Save Me above other mystery/thriller dramas. And giving depth and dignity to these working class people are a brilliant ensemble full of great performances: lead star and creator Lennie James, Suranne Jones, Stephen Graham, Lesley Manville, and season two addition Olive Gray—whose turn as a traumatized victim of human trafficking feels almost too real.

Regardless of being gay or straight in the 80s, AIDS has irrevocably shifted America in ways it long refused to acknowledge. The six New Yorkers at the center of Angels in America have their lives completely shifted due to the disease, but the way Tony Kushner weaves the disease into various social and religious concerns of the end of the 21st century, and the way director Mike Nichols translates Kushner’s brilliant play into a moving, yet comedic near six-hour miniseries proves how intrinsically linked these irrevocable shifts– the grief, the pain, and the need for hope– has been to the bittersweet progress America has made and has yet to make.

I would be okay if Black Doves was just a straightforward spy thriller; Knightley and Whishaw have enough charm, enigma, and kick-ass competence to make it work. But beyond the show’s cool and slick demeanor lies a wealth of other gems. It’s a heartwarming friendship tale for one, and a heartbreaking romance for another. It also manages to be funny at the right times, thanks to Sam’s bumbling accomplices, while evoking Christmas cheer. It sounds like a random mishmash of things, but Black Doves effortlessly blends its many tones and genres. Knightley and Whishaw ground the show’s ambition with their affecting performance as two cold-blooded killers who depend on each other’s trust and friendship. It also helps that there’s a depth to the deaths in Black Doves. There’s a nuance here that’s missing in most crime and action thrillers. Bodies are still dispensable, but you know why and how they’ve reached that point. If you want something smart and gripping that isn’t Die Hard to put on this holiday season, this could be it.

If you mention “coming-of-age show” and “Judd Apatow” in one breath, chances are people will think you’re talking about Freaks and Geeks, the highly revered series about a group of friends trying and failing to fit into high school. Despite being a commercial bust, it cemented Apatow as a tragicomic giant and launched the careers of Seth Rogen and James Franco (among many others) as the figures to watch out for a slapstick good time. But there is another series that falls into this category: the little-known but brilliant Undeclared, which also follows a group of young people (Rogen included!) trying their best to figure things out. 

Undeclared is set in college, however, and its main protagonist is Steven Karp (Jay Baruchel), a freshman who has a year to decide what he’s majoring in; until then, his status is undeclared. He’s joined by his roommates and the girls next door, and together they experiment—with class, ideologies, fraternities, and each other. The sky’s the limit for these newly independent adults, and as such, Apatow doesn’t hold back in his humor and subject matter. Undeclared captures that weird mix of apathy and ambition and awkwardness that college makes you feel, making it perfectly relatable for many of us. 

It’s also worth mentioning that a great deal of comedians, both established and up-and-coming at the time, make cameos here, including Will Ferrell, Adam Sandler, and pre-dental-surgery Amy Poehler.

The show’s premise is plain, but it’s also endlessly, edge-of-your-seat gripping. It’s steady and unhurried but never boring, and each episode, which represents an hour on the seven-hour flight, gives you a sliver of hope for the passengers, especially since they have pro-negotiator Sam Nelson (Idris Elba) on their side. Or do they? The show has fun playing with Sam as the anti-hero, but his heart is too big and golden to achieve that complexity. It also doesn’t bother to paint the hijackers as anything other than terrorists (at least not in the first few episodes screened for review). Instead, the show narrowly chases that mid-flight suspense, and it works. It successfully builds up to it with small but revealing moments. 

At the back of all the hubbub, there is also a running joke about what happens when you get stuck with the worst people you know. The passengers are characters you may be familiar with—the family with loud babies, the nosy seatmate forcing a chat, the lowkey racist eyeing everyone who doesn’t look like him—and it gets doubly entertaining to see them collaborate when they otherwise won’t.

If you’re expecting the sleek, playful, and totally over-the-top spy shenanigans of 2005’s Mr. & Mrs. Smith, you’re not going to find it in this 2024 version, not that it’s a bad thing. In fact, this show stands on its own, reinventing the spy couple into a professional partnership rather than an immediate spark that leads to marriage. This decision makes the show feel like the film’s opposite– as the longer runtime and naturalistic aura enables more focus on the incomparable Donald Glover and Maya Erskine rather than the explosions– but it makes the danger feel more unpredictable and not just action set pieces. Mr. & Mrs. Smith may not be the star-powered, guns-blazing action comedy we’re familiar with, but it’s certainly a more thoughtful, fresh take that improves on the concept.

Though it primarily revolves around the conservative, anti-feminist Phyllis Schlafly (portrayed as a fascinatingly contradictory character by Cate Blanchett), Mrs. America is a true ensemble drama. Each episode becomes a primer for a different significant figure in the movement for women’s rights in the 1970s, but it also emphasizes how difficult it was for this movement to cohere. As these wildly different perspectives clash, the need for a truly inclusive and intersectional coalition begins to arise. Blanchett is brilliant as always, but the miniseries also showcases stunning work from Rose Byrne, Uzo Aduba, Margo Martindale, Tracey Ullman, and many more.

From the title alone, A Murder at the End of the World is, of course, a murder mystery, a whodunit set in an isolated location, a la Agatha Christie. But the second TV collaboration of showrunners Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij infuses amateur forum-based sleuthing, with contemplation of technological dependence and on human connection. It does so through two plotlines: one, following the investigation at the mysterious, icy tech retreat, but the other one follows how the connection between the investigator and the victim began, in the warmer tones of the Midwest. The resulting back-and-forth leads to a delightfully addictive mystery held up by the incomparable Emma Corrin.

With the Hays code, the film adaptation of James M. Cain’s novel had to be changed to depict Mildred Pierce in a less sympathetic light. More than half a century later, Todd Haynes teamed up with HBO to pick up the book and adapt it once again. Kate Winslet may not have the stern determination Judy Crawford had in depicting the title character, but her rendition, along with a script more faithful to the novel, transforms Mildred into an indulgent mother who, like many parents, would go to the ends of the earth for her devotion to Veda moving up a higher class, though hopefully not at the same expense Mildred allows Veda to take from her. With more time to expand on the characterization and on the class divide, Haynes’ Mildred Pierce unearths more of what the classic film failed to depict, and stands on its own as great television.

Adapted from Caleb Carr’s blockbuster crime novel, The Alienist follows a team of amateur investigators in 1896 New York: Daniel Brühl as Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, the formidable titular “alienist” who studies the psychology of those alienated from society; Luke Evans as John Moore, a newspaper illustrator; and Dakota Fanning as Sara Howard, the first female employee of the New York Police Department. The show’s trio of amateur yet brilliant detectives need to solve crime mysteries involving haunting and gruesome murders, while the dynamic among them is key to the success of their detective work. Compelling characters, dark aesthetics, and an interesting and unconventional plot are some of the characteristics that make The Alienist a fascinating must-watch for crime lovers.

There is no shortage of craft and ambition in The English, a miniseries that employs tropes of classic Westerns, like the soulful anti-hero and the loyal sidekick, but also twists them enough to make them feel fresh. For instance, instead of typical cowboys, we have as our leads Cornelia Locke (Emily Blunt), an aristocratic Englishwoman, and Eli Whipp (Chaske Spencer), a native who also served in the US army. Both of them are terribly out of place in the Wild West, but they’re fueled with the kind of vengeful drive that leads to bloody outcomes, which are themselves staples of the genre.

The English is sweeping, both in scope and scenery, and solemn. Fans will appreciate how seriously the show treats the genre, and they’ll take pleasure in its familiarity, from the twisty mysteries and brutal disputes to the gritty backdrops and arid vistas. In this instance, the show’s ambition perfectly fits the genre.

In Shrinking, Jason Segel plays Jimmy Laird a newly-widowed therapist who’s trying to make amends with his loved ones after isolating himself for so long. It sounds depressing, but Shrinking has the delightful buoyancy of a show like Ted Lasso (which makes sense given that they’re created and directed by the same person) and even Trying, that other Apple TV+ show that masterfully balances seriousness and silliness. Like them, Shrinking is warm and affecting, but it has one undeniable advantage: Harrison Ford. Ford plays Segel’s boss, and if you aren’t onboard yet, Shrinking is definitive proof that Harrison is actually, objectively hilarious.

As one of the biggest political scandals in recent memory, Watergate has had its fair share of film and TV adaptations. But while plenty fixed their eyes on President Richard Nixon and his men, only a handful focused on the surrounding but equally vital participants. Gaslit seems like an attempt to fix that—it’s a political thriller that looks at the affair’s forgotten players and examines how their seemingly trivial actions formed ripples and grew into the massive wave that brought a presidency to an end. 

One such player, the main one in this limited series, is Martha Mitchell, played to jumpy perfection by Julia Roberts. Previously dismissed as a hysterical gossip, here Martha is finally given her due as a political whistleblower. Sean Penn, Shea Whigman, and Betty Gilpin make up an all-star cast, but along with Roberts, it’s Dan Stevens who really steals the show. He’s a chameleon as junior counsel John Dean, deeply immersed in the character’s confused but well-meaning intentions. 

Another thing that sets Gaslit apart from the others is its self-aware humor. It has a bumbling quality to it—where others replay the infamous break-in with solemnity, Gaslit pokes fun at its absurdity. It’s a series that knows when to be serious and when to dole out the jokes, making it a finely balanced and refreshing political drama.

While the show won’t teach you chemistry (or at least not enough for non-chemists to understand certain dialogue), Lessons in Chemistry is an enjoyable adaptation of the bestselling novel. Taking what makes the novel great, the period mini-series, like many period shows, highlights the historical inequality, but does so in a way that’s organic. Protagonist Elizabeth Zott, like Brie Larson, is just simply ahead of her time, while misogyny misinterprets her words and actions. The series also expands on other characters, but still manages to keep a steady pace, through clever rearrangement and reinterpretation of the novel’s plot points. Adding in the lovely costumes, and a stronger love story to start, Lessons in Chemistry might be Apple TV+’s answer to The Queen’s Gambit, albeit set a decade earlier.

With the various police procedurals available online, it can feel like an oversaturated genre, at best. At worst, with the struggles the world has to do with regards to the justice system, police procedurals can glorify the institution. Criminal Record examines this, but it doesn’t give the easy answers other shows have when discussing the systemic failure of the police, especially when it comes to race, age, and sex. Peter Capaldi stands in as the old guard, though his skin-crawling presence keeps Dan Hegarty’s real intentions an enigma until the very end. However, it’s Cush Jumbo as the empathetic June Lenker that drives the show, with her persistence meeting Hegarty’s every move, and her frustrations mirroring the real rage the world feels with regards to past injustices. The way the two clash creates a novel rookie-veteran dynamic that makes Criminal Record so striking.

It’s horrifying to think that there’s a sociopathic surgeon out there who, whether intentionally or not, is screwing up spinal operations so that innocent patients are either maimed or killed. But it is a reality that Dr. Death brings to the fore with great skill and sensitivity. The pacing is brisk, making it bingeable and frankly hard to put down once you start watching it. It also rightfully divides screentime between understanding the criminal’s motives, the system that allows it, and the people who are determined to put an end to this insanity. But the real highlight is how well-casted the series is. In season 1, Joshua Jackson is unnerving as Dr. Duntsch, while Alec Baldwin and Christian Slater’s buddy cop rapport makes the show more gripping than it already is. Season 2 guns for romance with Édgar Ramírez and Mandy Moore as conflicted lovers, and Lifetime-level cheesiness aside, it actually works to deliver something equally compelling as the first season. With Dr. Death, Peacock has built a worthwhile if terrifying anthology.

The Old Man has everything you’d expect from a political thriller. The dialogue is mysterious, the setting striking, and the action sequences gripping. Bullets fly and blood spouts from both sides of the border, and despite what each faction tells you, it’s clear there’s no such thing as a good guy. Everyone is a killer, it’s just a matter of being self-aware that you are one. 

The rarity The Old Man brings to the table is that its protagonist-killer is Dan Chase (Jeff Bridges), a former CIA agent in the twilight of his years. Much of the show’s punch comes from Dan and his impressive dexterity. One minute he’s having trouble remembering his medication, and the next, he’s sharp-shooting assassins half his age from miles away. It should be silly, unrealistic even, but Bridges is convincingly well-built and sells it. 

His bromance with fellow veteran John Lithgow is also worth noting. Lithgow plays Harold Harper, an FBI official who is tasked to hunt down Chase because of their close but complicated relationship. Basically, they’re frenemies: former army brothers who’ve chosen different paths, one to rebel and the other to stay. Their repartee alone, elevated by sharp writing and magnetic onscreen presence, makes the show worth it. But it’s the smooth coming-together of all these different elements—the action, the characters, and the twists—that make The Old Man a truly worthwhile watch. 

Starring the Cate Blanchett and directed by Alfonso Cuaron, Disclaimer is every bit as cinematic and enjoyable as you’d imagine it to be. It’s juicy and well-performed (Hoyeon’s unnatural acting notwithstanding), filled with enough twists and turns to keep you seated despite the occasionally melodramatic plot. It’s designed to make you crave more: more rich acting, more pulpy mystery, more explosive secrets, and more emotional breakdowns, which Blanchett has certainly mastered. It’s not as deep as it thinks itself to be, and the script can be overwrought at times (do we really need every single movement narrated?) but the fun twists, great performances, and beautiful cinematography more than makes up for them.

In Under the Banner of Heaven, Andrew Garfield plays Detective Jeb Pyre, a devout Mormon whose faith is shaken when he takes up a violent case that involves his church. When he discovers the gruesome death of a fellow worshipper and her 15-month-old child, he is driven mad by the choices he needs to make about his faith, his family, and the threat of fundamentalism these two pillars present. Terrifying and compelling, Under the Banner of Heaven is not for the weak-hearted, but it is recommended to anyone up for a good, challenging watch. 

With the success of Narcos, Netflix has created multiple shows about drugs in Latin America to the point that the genre is a tad oversaturated, but with Sofia Vergara heading the miniseries on the real-life cocaine queenpin, Griselda is one that you have to watch. Unlike other depictions of Blanco, Vergara’s series puts her front and center, focusing on the initial struggles it took for her to be taken seriously and the darkness that emerged once she got her way. And of course, Vergara is fantastic, sliding into the drama with an ease that makes us want to see more. While the show isn’t fully accurate, and six episodes are too short to tackle her decades-long rule, Griselda nonetheless is compelling television.

To mere observers, a grudge can seem like just that: a grudge. Shallow, inconsequential, and probably fixable. But for those involved, the cut feels deeper and saltier, despite (or because of) its inexplicable nature. This maddening feeling is what Ryan Murphy both explores and honors in Feud, and boy does he go all in: vicious dialoge, prima donna veterans, stylish costumes, and period-accurate sets. But the real cause for celebration is the empathy he affords to both sides of the feud. There is delicious drama of course, which is what makes this as addictive and watchable as any episode of The Real Housewives, but there is also space for difficult feelings and contradictory ideals. Real archenemies can’t get enough of one another, like Crawford and Davis, and Capote and his swans. It’s that obsession that ultimately makes feuds, and Feud, utterly fascinating. 

You can tell showrunner David E. Kelley, who played a part in legal dramas and mysteries like Boston Legal, Ally McBeal, and Big Little Lies, is a master of the genre. Presumed Innocent is carefully paced, confidently performed, and smartly written, making it a thrilling watch regardless if you’ve seen the 1990 feature and 1987 novel of the same name. It’s not without its misses though, the biggest one being the lack of believable chemistry between Gyllenhaal and Reinsve, who seems miscast in this series. As much as I loved her in The Worst Person in the World, she seems to exude an awkward sensuality that affects the realism of the series. On the other hand, Ruth Negga, who plays Gyllenhaal’s wife, and Peter Sarsgaard, who plays his political rival, command every scene they’re in and perfectly match Gyllenhaal’s crazed intensity. Whenever the show skews formulaic, it’s their solid performances that save the scene.

The American Dream thrives on people who work hard and dream big, even though success is almost never guaranteed. On Becoming a God in Central Florida points this out by brilliantly exposing how capitalist institutions exploit the desperation and naivete of those in need. There is, inevitably, a darkness to the story it tells, even though Krystal tries her best to outwit a system rigged against her. But showrunner Esta Spalding tells it with a campiness and magical weirdness that seems fitting for a show based in sun-soaked Florida. There is no shortage of incredible performances too from reliable veterans like Dunst and Skarsgård to relative newcomers like Théodore Pellerin, who plays the pyramid scheme FAM’s blind devotee. Not only does he hold his own, but his blind (and funny!) fanaticism often steals the show.

When therapist Alan Strauss (Steve Carell) is kidnapped and imprisoned by Sam (Domhnall Gleeson), a patient with homicidal urges, Alan begins a painful journey that directs his attention to his dangerous surroundings as well as his repressed thoughts.

Both Carell and Gleeson are creepily good in this, with Rotten Tomatoes even dubbing their work here as a “career best.” Carell is almost unrecognizable as the troubled but subdued prisoner, while Gleeson is unnerving as the reform-seeking serial killer. The backstories and the ongoing mystery propel the story with great force, but the show is at its best when it takes time to sit with its two leads and let them go at each other. All this makes for a rewarding mystery and a compelling two-hander.

Country music fans, rejoice: iconic musical duo Tammy Wynette and George Jones are given their due in George & Tammy, a six-episode musical drama that follows the eponymous couple amid their successful careers and not-so-successful love affair. 

Michael Shannon and Jessica Chastain play George and Tammy respectively, and if you watch the series for one reason, let it be for their superb performances. Chastain, ever the chameleon, slinks into her role with ease and charm, while Shannon booms in every scene, his volatility making for an exciting watch. If you aren’t familiar with the power couple and their torrid affair, a quick Google search will reveal that they’ve led very full lives, to put it mildly, and Shannon and Chastain thankfully match that energy with their own charged turns. 

The first thing that hits you about Sugar is its style: this is a show tailor-made for fans of a bygone Hollywood era, an era dominated by film noir and dapper leading men like Humphrey Bogart, whom Sugar emulates throughout the series. The show inserts clips from old films and, even better, echoes their style through tasteful jumpcuts and fisheye lenses. It’s dripping with panache, and Farrell is undeniably cool as he narrates his investigation and inner demons. That said, Sugar is also a show that’s more style than substance. If you strip it off its snazzy clothes, you’re left with the barest bones of a mystery that is simply too cliched to stand on its own. If you’re looking to dive into a heady mystery with surprising twists and thrills, you’re better off watching something else. However, if you’re a true blue fan of vintage noir, the kind who still puts TCM on religiously and swears nothing new can compare to the old, then this is your show.

Ponies is a fun ride. Centered on two widows who lost their CIA husbands, the unexpected spy series puts their duo into some wacky hijinks as they try to figure it out at a time where one wrong move can launch a world war. That’s because it remembers the world just got out of one. It is set in the Cold War, after all. The show sets believable weight to the stakes the two women face by putting into perspective the kind of world these spies were working with. And so, with this strong sense of setting, Bea and Twila feel more like real people than the serious super spy or the adventurous James Bond-type. Combined with the surprising chemistry between Emilia Clarke and Haley Lu Richardson, breaking out of type, Ponies finds humor and fun in the uncertainty of the time.

This English-language adaptation of the 1973 Swedish miniseries by Ingmar Bergman stars Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain, whose palpable chemistry is at full force here. It’s daunting to adapt a work from such a legend of the screen, but director Hagai Levi finds new nuances and modern situations to the story—infusing a different cultural identity into some characters, and playing with typically gendered tropes such as infidelity. While it can be frustrating to watch this couple’s failure to communicate properly, Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain’s powerful, heartbreaking performances should keep fans and casual viewers hooked to the screen.

When a mix-up in the school pick-up line turns out to be a kidnapping, it’s the beginning of the nightmare for the whole Irvine family. Except, as this crime thriller investigates the case, most side-eye and imply that it’s All Her Fault. The blame rests on the mothers’ shoulders, but mainly because the burden of the mental load and all the logistics rest on the shoulders of Marissa Irvine and Jenny Kaminski for their respective families. While the crime itself unfolds to somewhat melodramatic motives, the series ultimately works because of the incredible performances. Sarah Snook and Dakota Fanning portray a compelling bond formed by the empathy they both grant each other, when the rest of the world wouldn’t.

Set in 2032, The Peripheral finds a protagonist in Flynne Fisher (Chloe Grace Moretz), a cash-strapped but ambitious woman who gets stuck between alternate timelines and realities after testing out an experimental gaming device. She stays for the money and safety promised to her, but quickly finds out that she’s getting more than what she bargained for in this twisty, action-packed thriller. 

The Peripheral is worth a try if you enjoyed HBO’s Westworld (whose creators also serve as producers in this show), or if you’re just generally intrigued by all thing tech and sci-fi. The world-building is complex, sometimes to the point of confusion, but Moretz is a pro at grounding scenes and making sure she brings us along on the ride. If you’re looking to get lost in a realm at once real and unreal, then this show could be for you.

Knowing better than to dwell on its title character’s early life in bondage, Lawmen: Bass Reeves grants him his freedom early on and establishes him as a man of inherent dignity and complex emotion. Even in the first two episodes watched for this review, Reeves (thanks to a stellar performance by David Oyelowo) is defined by a wide range of relationships and skills—all of which is unified in the character’s realization that emancipation has not automatically led to peace, and that America remains a relatively lawless land. It’s all handsomely mounted, with high production values and a willingness to breathe through quiet moments that give its somewhat obligatory western action the gravity it needs.

It takes Monsieur Spade some time to settle into its skin. The first few hours are dedicated to introducing as many side characters and backstories as possible, and though this could have been more elegantly executed, it eventually pays off. The main mystery, once you get to it, is layered and complex, and watching Spade physically and verbally spar with Philippe is its own kind of reward. Their curt but cutting dialogue harkens back to past noirs, and it’s a delight to see that tradition live on in the genre.

What does corporate heaven, the Dark Ages, the Oregon Trail, and a post-apocalyptic world have in common? Nothing, except that they are all settings for each season of Miracle Workers. The eccentric comedy anthology series plays out somewhat like a set of extended Saturday Night Live skits, with one of its youngest writers Simon Rich running the show, but the absurd humor works as Rich juxtaposes today’s modern behavior in these novel settings each season. It’s quirky and light on its feet, focusing on silly situations, but through these short episodes, Miracle Workers do create miracles in the way Daniel Radcliffe, Steve Buscemi, and Geraldine Viswanathan’s characters resolve to make a meaningful change, despite terrible circumstances. It’s not as in-depth and profound as The Good Place, but it’s funny and surprisingly witty, dealing with ideas about what’s good and how to get the will to do it.

Though it may be self-serious nearly to the point of parody, Line of Duty is that rare hard-boiled police show that actually works because of its commitment to being cold and clinical. As each season focuses on a new case of corruption within the police, it chooses not to focus on character but on packing as much meticulous detail as possible into its investigations. The result is a slower paced drama that may take some getting used to, but it’s one whose every additional clue or revelation makes the nature of this modern police work feel that much more draining to the soul—a great change of tone from the heroic police shows we tend to see on TV.

After more than a decade apart on-screen, Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna finally reunite in La Máquina. While they maintained their friendship off-screen, it’s just so fun to see them take on a more comedic dynamic as they snipe at each other, get into trouble, and scramble to get things right. It’s the best part of this series, and with Gabriel Ripstein’s direction, the series is never boring, continuing to move in unexpected directions with swiveling camera movements and such a slick score. While there are some issues with the pacing, La Máquina is fun to watch, especially when focused on their leads.

Given the seven year success of the original serial killer show, it’s no wonder that Showtime wanted to continue the franchise, spawning off a prequel as a third installation in Dexter: Original Sin. It’s not a terrible idea– after all, how does a serial killer get into killing the way Dexter does? But fans of the original series would inevitably compare this prequel to the original in all aspects, from the 90s vibe, to the new cast members, to having too many flashbacks for a show that’s already a prequel series. Original Sin would be intriguing for viewers who have never watched the original, but the prequel would certainly divide some fans, with some finding it would tide them over till Resurrection and with others finding the series too repetitive.

The Little Drummer Girl starts slow, but it’s hard to peel your eyes away from the screen when it finally kicks into gear in the third episode. Every frame is packed with style, for one, and Le Carre’s espionage maze reliably thrills for another. Paired with Park Chan-wook’s eye for detail, as seen in modern classics like Oldboy and The Handmaiden, and with Pugh’s all-in performance, The Little Drummer Girl feels a bit more premium than the usual spy thrillers on TV. The elephant in the room, of course, is that this is all set against the backdrop of the Israel-Palestine conflict, manifested here in back-and-forth terrorist and assassination attempts. In this aspect, the series can be quite toothless, though it accurately highlights the hypocrisy of armchair activists like Charlie. “All right, I’m superficial, I get it!” she claims when pressed about her conflicting politics.

The HBO series The Undoing looks a lot like the prestige miniseries that comes on TV these days. It has an impressive budget, heavy-hitting leads (among them Nicole Kidman, Hugh Grant, and Donald Sutherland), and a self-serious tone that is partly commanding and partly absurd. You’ll have a hard time picking it out from the rest of the HBO and Showtime dramas that follow this same template. But while it’s not as distinct or as exciting as it could be, it is undeniably gripping thanks to the compelling performances and the wisely cut cliffhangers. You know where the story is going, but the fine acting and jolting twists cause some doubt, which alone makes for great thrills.

At just six episodes, Defending Jacob can feel surprisingly long. The dramatic pauses are drawn out and the dialogues tend to get melodramatic. But the core mystery remains compelling, as do the trio of performances that lead it. Chris Evans, Michelle Dockery, and Jaden Martell are devastating to watch as they descend into uncertainty and chaos—Martell in particular, though the youngest, brings more heart to the table. Is he the psychopath everyone claims him to be, or is he just a boy struggling to come of age? It can stand to cut a few scenes and plot lines, but these three actors, the questions they raise about trust and loyalty, and the whodunnit mystery ultimately make it a gripping series.

As financial systems update for the digital age, so do the related crimes. This crime thriller series starts out with a break-in, but after forcing office worker Zara Dunne to transfer the funds online, the robbery proves to be much more complex than a simple hit-and-run. It’s rather entertaining. The pressure put upon office workers Zara Dunne and Luke Selborn reflects the way technology has shifted risk, simultaneously presenting itself as more secure, yet can be tweaked with just a few clicks. Each new clue is presented quite masterfully, raising more questions and heightening the suspense. While some plot points might be predictable for fans of the genre, most of the twists work, thanks to the performances of Sophie Turner, Archie Madekwe, and Jacob Fortune-Lloyd.

Because of the format, Margo’s Got Money Troubles doesn’t quite have the same laugh-out-loud humor as the original novel– televised series, after all, can’t run entirely on the sharp internal monologue that worked on the page. However, that doesn’t mean it should be written off entirely. It’s still pretty funny, but the series mostly shifts its focus on empathizing with Margo and the choices she’s pushed to make. Like her journey, the show takes a while to set things up, though once it does, her impulsive choice easily rolls into a series of plot-worthy consequences. Some of which are financially difficult, as hinted by the title. Sometimes, as in the case with her dad, it’s easy to see how the ensemble can grow and change, maybe even into something better. It helps that the main trio– Elle Fanning, Nick Offerman, and Michelle Pfeiffer– are absolutely charming as the center family.

As far as newsroom dramas go, Alaska Daily is on the cheesier side, its structure hewing closer to network television than cinematic streaming. There’s always a lesson to be learned and an evil to be exposed, which leaves little room for gray areas. But ultimately, the series is smart, good-hearted, and clear about what it stands for, namely, the importance of community journalism and ethical storytelling. 

It’s also plain riveting to watch; each episode unravels the main mysteries (that of government corruption and indigenous neglect) along with a side mystery that may seem incidental at first, but proves to be central to the themes the show plays with. The series also looks into the intersection between the press, politics, and crime, proving that journalism isn’t as clean nor heroic as it may sometimes seem.

Showrunner Tom McCarthy was also the brain behind the award-winning newspaper drama Spotlight, so it’s not surprising to see his precise insights about the craft make their way into this series. But to be sure, Alaska Daily is no Spotlight, or for that matter, The Newsroom. It’s neither fast-paced nor splashy, but it’s all the better without being those. Alaska Daily is about the little guys, and as that, it succeeds. 

If you’re a fan of slow-burn mysteries and genre blends, you might enjoy Outer Range, a carefully paced mix of Western, sci-fi, and family drama.

Josh Brolin stars as the patriarch Royal Abbott, who, while defending his ranch from a neighboring family, also discovers a strange void in his pasture. The void leads to even stranger depths as the show takes a turn for the supernatural. A ranch drama with a paranormal twist, Outer Range has been compared to family epics like Yellowstone and eerie mysteries like Twin Peaks—vastly different shows whose only throughline is that they are absurdly but impressively extensive in scale.

Night Sky has an intriguing premise—underground, an elderly couple visits a portal to another world, while aboveground they go through the trials and tribulations of marriage and old age. You would think that the sci-fi element would overpower everything else in this story, but on the contrary, it’s the slice-of-life chemistry between Franklin and Irene York (played by Oscar winners JK Simmons and Sissy Spacek, respectively) that truly grounds the out-of-this-world series. Watching them pull from impressive depths and deliver consistent performances compensates for the slower and confusing plot lines in the show. Tune in for the dazzling mystery below their shed, the titular night sky that reveals evolving puzzles, but stay for the performances—grounded, honest, and ever-so gripping.

After loyally covering up for his mafia bosses and serving 25 years of jail time, Dwight Manfredi (Sylvester Stallone) is surprised to discover he’s been kicked out of his New York turf and transferred to Tulsa “middle of nowhere” Oklahoma. It takes a while, but Dwight eventually (and funnily) finds his footing in town, establishing a base at the local dispensary and following the money from there.

It’s a well-known face that Stallone can command an action scene like no other, but it’s refreshing to see him crack jokes for a change, even if they don’t always land. At once familiar and new, Tulsa King proves Stallone still has the chops to engage an audience while revealing new tricks he keeps up his sleeves.

It’s ironic that Pete Davidson is the least interesting part of Bupkis, an autobiographical series about the ins and outs of Davidson’s life. The half-hour comedy takes on the same raunchy, stoner, and self-deprecating humor Davidson is known for, so if you’ve seen some of his stand-up specials, SNL segments, and the film The King of Staten Island (a much better outing, in this writer’s opinion), you’ll know what to expect in Bupkis: a lot of Davidson revisiting his childhood trauma and poking fun at himself for being the internet’s reluctant star.  

That’s all fine and funny enough, but what really makes Bupkis much better than your standard sitcom is the people around Davidson. If you can appreciate anything about Davidson, it’s his appreciation for the people most others would usually forget after fame. Hometown locals, childhood friends, extended families—they’re all here and they all shine much brighter than the series’ star. Brilliantly, Joe Pesci plays Davidson’s grandfather, Edie Falco his mother, and Bobby Cannavale his uncle. They’re fully fleshed and superbly acted, bringing much-needed tenderness and humbleness to the picture. It’s a pleasant surprise to see them in a series that is teetering on the verge of self-indulgence. So with Bupkis, you can come out of curiosity, but you will stay for the supporting characters, who truly live up to their role and hold this show up with mighty skill.

Directed by Steven Soderbergh (Oceans trilogy, Erin Brockovich, and more recently, Kimi), Full Circle is a twisty and stylish noir that takes a while to grasp, what with its epic ensemble and sweeping storylines, but once that first thread of connection is made, it becomes a series that’s very hard to leave. Each episode leaves you excited for the next, which in turn ups the ante even more. Soderbergh is in his element, and aided by a stacked cast of veterans and newcomers alike, he turns in a series that’s expertly tense and watchable throughout.

Based on the 1980 murder trial, Love & Death repeats the facts from witness testimonies, but also contemplates Montgomery’s character in her Methodist community. Through Elizabeth Olsen’s superb acting, Montgomery is a character anyone can easily empathize with. Despite living the suburban dream and living in a tight-knit community, she wants to soothe an emptiness inside of her. The first half shows she initially did so through her affair, but even as the marriages get resolved with support of their community, it still leads to the tragic death. But because of this, the series’ second half feels devastating, as her self-defense alienates her from the people that compose her entire world. Love & Death gives an empathetic portrayal of a regular housewife just trying to find someone who would unconditionally side with her.

With the show transporting us straight into its colorful alien world without context, The Second Best Hospital in the Galaxy may not be the best animated sci-fi comedy out there, but it’s fairly entertaining once you get into it. It’s a strange amalgamation of genres, as the workplace issues and medical technobabble are made much more colorful, wacky, and fun with its alien sci-fi, but the show mostly works through the empathizable characters, led here by the comedic personalities of Stephanie Hsu and Keke Palmer. The Second Best Hospital in the Galaxy is not quite out of this world, but if you’re a fan of American animated sitcoms, this might be right up your alley.

With the popularity of the Villenueve films, it’s no surprise that Warner Bros. Discovery would want to expand on the Dune franchise. Because of this, they decided to make HBO’s Dune: Prophecy– a mini-series centered around the mysterious Bene Gesserit. It’s an interesting premise, with the group’s strange supernatural powers, and it makes sense for HBO, too. After all, they love to make shows centered around power plays, deception, and the upper class. So it’s not surprising that Prophecy is more-or-less the same, albeit sandy and sci-fi flavored. There are some anachronicities to the series– after all, technology ten thousand years from the Dune movies should feel a bit more different– but Dune: Prophecy is not terrible, especially with the excellent performances of Emily Watson and Olivia Williams.

Starring a knock-out cast of comediennes that include Carol Burnett, Laura Dern, Allison Janney, and Wiig, Palm Royale is a visual treat filled with a handful of memorable performances. But as funny as these women and as vibrant as these costumes are, the series never seems truly believable and lived in. It instead feels like a neverending comedy sketch—a parody of a melodrama, to be exact. Despite its tender moments, it’s difficult to feel sympathetic for characters who are played for laughs and laughs only. Look, I love Wiig as much as the next person who grew up watching seasons 31-37 of SNL, but the loudness of her performance can’t hide the fact that she can’t find her character’s core, which ultimately weakens the act. Wiig is usually excellent in dramatic roles, so this one comes as a surprise.

Steven Soderbergh’s second TV show of 2023 — which was only announced a few days before its release — is a hopeful dystopian one. Command Z, which comprises eight short episodes totaling 90 minutes, is so named for Apple’s “undo” shortcut because that’s exactly the purpose of the show’s time-travel mission. In 2053, a tech billionaire (Michael Cera) who uploaded his consciousness to the cloud before dying on his way to Mars recruits three employees to make a few tweaks in the past to divert Earth off the course that led it to its nightmarish current state. The idea is that, by implanting themselves in the minds of those nearest to potential change-makers — like the daughter of a Big Oil CEO or a politician’s aide — they can convince their targets to take action and prevent the city-high sea levels and Hazmat-requiring pollution of 2053.

Though frequently humorous in its satirical vision of the future, Command Z doesn’t mess around, virtually breaking the fourth wall at every opportunity to prod us to do something. If the tone isn’t quite as polished as it could be — or if the production value sometimes feels slapdash — it’s all befitting of the urgency of the message it’s begging us to heed before it’s too late.

Command Z is available to stream here for a one-time fee of $7.99 that is donated in full to Children’s Aid and the Boston University Center for Antiracist Research.

With such a long career in film, it’s surprising that Natalie Portman has never starred in a television show, except, of course, the occasional voice over and guest appearances. The story that got her to television is Lady in the Lake, the 2019 bestselling crime noir thriller that weaves classic 60s noir with intersectional feminism all through a whodunit plot. Of course, it’s no surprise that Portman performs well, and her and co-star Moses Ingram are excellent as mothers seeking change in their respective lives. The comparison between their lives drives home the tragedy of how unfair the odds were stacked against Ingram’s Cleo Johnson. However, the way director Alma Har’el alternates between lives is clunky and sometimes even confusing, even if it’s in hopes to bring the original novel’s POV shifts onto the screen. The source material is ambitious, daring, and a worthy vehicle for both Portman and Ingram, so it’s disappointing to see Lady in the Lake already sputtering at the start.

For a show about luxury brands (featuring A-list actors no less), The New Look is surprisingly tacky. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought I was watching a History Channel reenactment, instead of a supposedly prestige Apple TV+ show about the murky histories of Coco Chanel (Juliette Binoche) and Christian Dior (Ben Mendelsohn). The lines are clunky, the delivery is stiff, and doing all this in English with forced French and German accents is certainly…a choice. It’s not that they’re poor accents, but the inconsistency is distracting; it often sounds like I’m listening to a dub, which I’ve never been a fan of. To his credit, director Todd A. Kessler knows how to make a fashionable show. The gowns are gorgeous, and the designs Chanel and Dior come up with look just as chic as the day they first came out. But that’s just one thread of multi-layered show. It may look good, but it crumbles under the weight of its ambitious goal to be a biopic, a period piece, and a war drama all at once. What a waste of a good cast, an interesting story, and a gorgeous collection of gowns!