30 Best Shows Of 2023 On Amazon Prime

There is no shortage of TV shows that dive deep into the weird wired world of social media, but F#Ck1Ng Social Media deserves credit for doing it effortlessly. You can tell the writers have an intimate knowledge of internet fame by how it contrasts has-been influencer Amanda with rising content star Vicky (Azul Guaita). Amanda’s realm is YouTube (a millennial staple) while Vicky’s is TikTok (a Gen Z haven). Amanda rose to fame because of her sincerity, while it was Vicky’s sleekness that first caught people’s eyes. Through their rivalry, the series shows us how swiftly social media evolves and how contradictory it can be—online, we’re both vulnerable and artificial, progressive and regressive. It’s a hefty message, but the show delivers it with an impressively light touch. Intense rivalry and fame commentary aside, F#Ck1Ng Social Media is also a quirky comedy and a touching family drama. There’s just as much to like here as there is to learn.

You don’t have to be familiar with the book series to appreciate this adaptation of The Wheel of Time, but you might need to be a fantasy fan to understand that sometimes it takes a while (like a season long) to build a world as detailed and expansive as this one. Once you give it that grace, The Wheel of Time becomes a satisfying watch. It’s utterly fascinating in its rules, lore, mystery, and language. It relies on that all-too-common Chosen One trope, sure, but it subverts it too and surprises by the time it reveals who among Moiraine’s team that person is. Though it never reaches GOT levels of grandeur (the CGI could be better), its ever-expanding world of characters and magic delight and enthrall.

It’s easy to see With Love and mistake it for a Hallmark special; both are filled with pretty people who spend the holidays looking for love. But where Hallmark tends to be simple and sappy, With Love is refreshingly complex and earnest. The characters, mostly Latino and queer, rarely sugarcoat their problems and desires, even though each episode ends on a relatively sweet note. 

In a joyous move, every one of them takes place during a different holiday too—Christmas, New Year, Valentine’s, Día de los Muertos. And every time, we delve deeper into the lives of our leads and witness the ways they take on universal problems with modern and diverse approaches. It’s breezy and at times raunchy, making it a fun companion for any holiday.

Misfortune (Mala fortuna) is a telenovela that doesn’t shy away from the genre’s goofy qualities. It’s predictable and a little bit ridiculous, but like most enjoyable soap operas, it knows how to draw you in and keep you invested in all the drama. Our protagonists are two peas in a pod: Julio and Victoria, ordinary people who seduce their way into scamming the ultra-rich family known as the Urquizas. Of course, their feelings (both for the family and for each other) get in the way of their schemes, but the resulting entanglement makes for a sexy and hilarious watch. 

A murder mystery with an absurdist comedic bent, Killer Coaster initially comes off as too much. It struggles to juggle different genres and poses many questions it doesn’t immediately answer. There are also too many elements—including warring families, star-crossed lovers, secret identities, and complicated pasts—that make the mystery of the Ghost Train Killer seem incidental, even though it is the show’s throughline, the main event that kickstarts the entire thing. But it’s easy to forgive all this whenever Alexandra Lamy does her magic onscreen. As the well-meaning but clumsy police officer Sandrine, Lamy is likable and hilarious, a clown with just enough heart to pull you into her antics. She soars even more when paired with real-life sister Audrey Lamy, who plays the carnival owner Yvanne—also good-hearted but even slower (and at times funnier) than Sandrine. Together, their amusing weirdness saves the show from loose ends and uneven tones. 

 As the drama’s dysfunctionally in-love leads, Coleman and Jackson-Cohen are compelling. Whether the scene demands rage or romance, they’re able to effectively dial it from a subtle one to an all-out ten. Sadly, the material they’re working with fails to match their energy. Lackluster direction makes their arguments more of a weak tug than an intense push and pull, while scant introspection and backstory fail to justify the murderous urges that Liv all of a sudden has. In fact, it’s this aspect of Wilderness that remains the weakest. It’s watchable as an infidelity drama, but not nearly as believable as a crime thriller. The violent scenes come out corny, if not unintentionally funny. There is a version of Wilderness that could’ve made it a spiritual successor to the much wilder and brasher Doctor Foster, but this, unfortunately, isn’t it. 

As a spin-off of The Boys, Gen V returns to the same well of explicit, hyperviolent satire about seemingly benevolent superheroes—touching on many ideas that the franchise has already explored more strikingly before. This series’ first three episodes are at their least effective when they get hung up on the shock factor of it all, with its satire often appearing as “cool” as the thing that it aims to satirize. But when the show quiets down and finally focuses up on its handful of main characters, it finds fresh ground for commentary.

At its heart this is a story about how the education system can be so easily bought by wealthy stakeholders who care more about producing star graduates than actually helping young people excel and find a place in the world. These kids are also immediately much easier to root for than Billy Butcher and his antihero crew, as each of them gradually reveals the trauma they’re recovering from as a result of being experimented on and exploited. Gen V’s central mysteries are slow to develop so far, but just seeing how this school-slash-factory is run helps make up for the slower pace.

The selling point of the series Alphonse, apart from raunch and romance, is that it gets its talented lead Jean Dujardin to transform into a different character each time he meets with a different client. Sometimes, he’s a World War II soldier, other times, he’s part of the academic elite. Always, he’s the object of fantasy of Parisian women. His real self, however, the titular Alphonse, is a sad sack going through a midlife crisis. On paper, this sounds like a recipe for pure fun: a lost guy tries out different masks and costumes until he discovers his true self in the process. The execution, however, feels wonky and uneven, as if the series is unable to balance all the things it tries to be. To be clear, Dujardin is excellent as the chameleonic Alphonse and Charlotte Gainsbourg is arresting as his mercurial wife Margot. But there’s a murkiness and vagueness to the overall style, tone, and direction of the series that leaves you wanting more. It’s okay, but there’s a sense that it could’ve been great if it tighten its screws a bit more.

The first thing we learn about Dolores Roach is that she is a person of sensation and scandal, a masseuse who, as the newspaper clippings reveal, turned out to be a murderous cannibal serving human flesh to unwitting customers at a local eatery, a la Sweeney Todd. But the series is less about the horrors of the act and more about the woman behind the front. “I was never the blood-hungry sociopath people say I am,” Dolores claims early in the first episode. “I was just some chick in Washington Heights.” In an attempt to humanize Dolores, we’re made privy to the unforgiving circumstances surrounding her case, namely: the desperation of poverty, the relentlessness of discrimination, the brokenness of the criminal justice system, and the inevitability of gentrification, all of which play a crucial role in Dolores’ eventual descent into misdeed and madness. It’s an interesting idea, fleshing out her darkness in a comic tone and pitting it against systemic social problems, but sadly the show never pulls off the balance it needs to become an effective dark comedy. Maybe something was lost when it was adapted from a one-woman play to TV series, but it never really shakes off that amateur approach to telling its delicate story. The heavy-handed narration and the occasional gimmicks overshadow the horrific deaths that occur, and they don’t leave enough space for the story’s relevant themes to aerate and make a significant impact. It’s also not nearly as scandalous nor as sexy as it thinks it is, lacking passion both in its love and murder scenes. They come off scrubbed and squeaky, blunting what could have been, at the very least, a sharp murder thriller. 

While the identity of the post-Daniel Craig James Bond hangs in limbo, the franchise is branching out into TV with this mid-octane game show, which riffs on tried-and-tested reality TV competitions: its multiple choice questions and climb-the-ladder approach to prize money are evidently borrowed from Who Wants to be a Millionaire?, while its globetrotting recalls The Amazing Race.

For all its snazzy backdrops, though, this still feels like a half-hearted effort. The editing is partly to blame: in the first two episodes, for example, we only meet four of the nine pairs, and we’re constantly jumping back to the opening challenge in the Scottish Highlands for their introductions. There’s also zero interaction between any of the duos: they never meet or even acknowledge each other’s existence, which dulls the drama and leaves you to suspect their scenes were all shot entirely in isolation. (You get the same impression from Brian Cox, who plays the mysterious mastermind behind the challenges and whose vague commentary is clearly designed so editors can slot it in wherever.) While there are plenty of Easter eggs for eagle-eyed Bond fans to spot, the show is definitively of the background-watch kind of TV: moderately interesting, but never as gripping as the movies whose coattails it’s plainly riding.