Renee Cuisia: My Curated Picks on Streaming Services

Long Story Short follows three siblings throughout their youth and adulthood. It sounds basic enough, except the ten-episode series time-hops every now and then, so we get to drop in on them during certain periods, like the drive back home from a loved one’s funeral, a catastrophic prom night, and even just a good night where everyone gets along. We get glimpses and snippets of their life in non-chronological order, but it all builds up to a resonant and deeply moving whole. Created by Raphael Bob-Waksberg of BoJack Horseman and Tuca & Bertie fame, it’s not surprising how heart-wrenching Long Story Short can get. But as Waksberg leaves behind his animal avatars in this series and focuses instead on human characters, he also crafts something a little less devastating and a little more delightful and closer to home.

Reunion plays out like a typical thriller—it follows a recently released ex-con on the hunt for revenge. In most episodes, his reasons for killing remain a mystery, while his moral compass swings from hero to anti-hero. The beats and storylines are familiar, except for the fact that everything takes place in the realm of the deaf. The leading man, David Brennan (Matthew Gurney), is a deaf man who only uses sign language and the occasional angry gestures to communicate with those around him. The victim of his crime, Ray (Ace Mahbaz), was a stalwart in the deaf community, and so his widowed wife chases David in search of answers, answers David has promised Ray he’ll keep until his death. Reunion is an excellent show, if not in terms of narrative, then in terms of technical feats. Everything from the editing, cinematography, and especially the performances, which feature plenty from the deaf actors, point to how creatively and dedicately rooted the series is in the deaf community.

Dying for Sex feels like two shows in one. Mainly, it follows Molly (Williams), a 40-something diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer, and Nikki (Jenny Slate), her messy but fun-loving best friend who is trying to keep up with Molly’s increasing needs. It gets into the gritty reality of Molly’s emotional and physical pain and explores how her relationship with Nikki both fractures and solidifies as her cancer advances. But the show is also largely about sex. It sheds light on the unique struggle people like Molly have to go through to satisfy sexual needs, which, if anything, only intensifies when one is ill. Instead of being desired, Molly is pitied by her husband, who is too afraid to be intimate with her. So Molly, with nothing to lose, explores sex and sexuality. She touches herself, watches videos, goes on dating apps, and starts a BDSM-esque relationship with her neighbor. The series is raunchy and mines a lot of humor from Molly’s journey, but it’s equally sobering and enlightening. It expertly blends these seemingly opposing scenarios and still comes out feeling solidly made. It will make you go through a roller coaster of emotions, which feels apt for a show about life and death.

From the creators of HBO’s Mare of Easttown comes Task, a gritty crime drama that follows two men —one cop and one criminal —who, despite their differences, are on a similarly rocky journey towards healing. The series is slow to start, and it doesn’t help that the premise is something you’ve seen many times. But the details of Task, from the compelling performances to the excellently choreographed action sequences, make it a thrilling watch. What it lacks in novelty it more than makes up for in the intricacy of its details.

Co-created and starring Jason Momoa, Chief of War is a historical drama depicting the events that led to the unification of Hawaii. The series is rooted in the perspective of the indigenous people, not the eventual colonizers, which is rare in shows like this. Even FX’s Shogun, which tells a similar story set in 17th-century Japan, has a foreigner as the audience’s avatar. Chief of War, on the other hand, is committed to introducing the islanders in the context of their lived experience, which is why the first few episodes are spoken in pure Hawaiian.

The series is loaded with enlightening historical details, yet it never gets bogged down by them. Instead, it strikes a fine balance between intense action, meaningful characterization, and the island’s deep lore. It helps, too, that the series looks glorious—all lush and sunlit. Controversially, much of Chief of War was shot in New Zealand, not Hawaii, but the show still looks better than 90% of the grayish sludge on TV right now.

The Girlfriend, which is Meet the Parents by way of Death Becomes Her and Parasite, is a silly thriller about two women fighting to the death over one man. Cherry, an ambitious working-class real-estate agent, is the girlfriend, while Laura, a wealthy art curator, is the overly possessive mother. Their rivalry is amusing at first–a swirl of misunderstanding, bad impressions, and prejudice has them at each other’s throats the instant they meet. But it very quickly escalates into something sinister and dangerous. Still, it never takes itself too seriously and pretends to be anything other than a highly entertaining soap drama, making it all the more entertaining to watch.

Created by Peaky Blinders showrunner Steven Knight, A Thousand Blows zooms in on the London Victorian underworld and follows three outsiders trying to uplift themselves in different, often illegal ways. There’s Mary Carr (Erin Rachael Doherty), an ambitious pickpocket who heads an all-female crime syndicate; Sugar Goodson (Stephen Graham), a merchant by day and bare-knuckle boxing champion by night; and London newcomer Hezekiah Moscow (Malachi Kirby), a Jamaican lion tamer who gets roped into Mary and Sugar’s complicated world. The conflicts the show takes onshow’s conflicts are as old as time: wealth inequality, gender divide, and racial discrimination. But Knight gives them a modern refresh so, coupled with razor-sharp dialogue, impressive choreography, gorgeous 1880s details, and stellar performances (particularly from Kirby), the show is invigorating to watch. Peaky Blinders fans who are missing the show will especially appreciate its grit and dark humor.

Based on the books by Michael Connelly (Bosch and Lincoln Lawyer), Ballard is about the titular LAPD detective (Maggie Q) who is reassigned to a cold case unit after she dared to speak up about an abusive superior in her former department. The series deals with her trauma while also diving deep into police corruption and deep-seated discrimination. It does so through the overarching and episodic cases they take on. In this way, Ballard doesn’t differ from your standard police procedural. But it feels fresher than the other shows that have come out, thanks to Q and her castmates’ compelling performances, the layered approach the filmmakers take in depicting multiple cases at once, and the thrilling pace.

Étoile is a charming transatlantic series set in fictional ballet companies based in New York and Paris. The series alternates between the two cities and features a diverse array of players, including talented dancers, misunderstood choreographers, and the prickly businessmen who fund the entire endeavor. It sounds like a lot, but showrunner Amy Sherman-Palladino (Gilmore Girls, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel) balances everything nimbly and turns in an easy watch that never feels jarring despite the constant swaps and switches.

Based on the Judy Blume novel of the same name, Forever follows two teens in Los Angeles as they navigate love, sex, and their first wade into adulthood. The eight-episode series updates the novel in major ways. Instead of the white 1970s suburban setting Blume (who executive produces the series) is known for, Forever hones in on the specific experiences of Black teens. One is Justin (Michael Cooper Jr.), a wealthy boy struggling to fit in at his predominantly white private school, and the other is Keisha (Lovie Simone), an intelligent track star who lost her scholarship because of a scandal involving her ex-boyfriend, Christian (Xavier Mills). It’s very easy for Forever to turn into a cliche, a coming-of-age series you’ve already seen a thousand times. But Forever stands out because of its specificity and sensitivity in portraying Black teen love. While many young adult shows rely on heavy drama and crazy plot twists, Forever’s characters are robust, interesting, and complicated enough to power eight episodes centered on them alone. Justin and Keisha are sometimes stupid and sometimes smart, but they remain relatable throughout. You’ll find much to like here, whether you’re a young person tuning in for something sweet and comforting, or an adult hoping to remember what it was like to feel as scared and excited to be on your own.

As a spin-off of The Office, The Paper has the not-so-easy task of living up to the very high standards set by its beloved predecessor. Thankfully, The Paper succeeds by immediately finding its own voice. It’s still a workplace comedy bolstered by small-town shenanigans and heartwarming relationships, but The Paper is less cynical and more hopeful and sweet. If anything, it’s closer to Parks and Recreation than the other shows creator Greg Daniels has worked on. Watching The Paper, you’ll be hard-pressed not to root for The Truth-Teller’s ambitious editor-in-chief, glamorous managing editor, and equally kooky staff. Just as endearing (and hilarious) is the paper’s attempt to gain back relevancy in an age that’s all but forgotten the importance of journalism, especially grassroots and community journalism.

You’ll have to trust us on this: it’s best to know absolutely nothing about this show before you start watching. There’s a reason all the promos you see on it say near to nothing about it, and it’s a reason you’ll be thankful for at the end of the first episode. What we will say is that Paradise is a refreshing take on political thrillers, and the cast–mainly Sterling K. Brown and Julianne Nicholson–are compelling in their flexibility, confidence, and vulnerability. The show is genre-defying, but what drives it above all else is mystery. Creator Dan Fogelman (This Is Us) might have slightly gone haywire with the flashbacks, but he’s careful not to give anything away too quickly. Instead, we’re left with mysterious puzzle pieces, unpredictably solved by Brown’s character.

Deli Boys moves fast. It starts out as a simple succession story, then it quickly evolves into a crime caper that’s also, subtly, a commentary on being brown and Muslim in America. It’s impressive enough in those respects, but above all else, Deli Boys is a well-written comedy. The fast pace helps, but it’s the characters’ ability to effortlessly quip and riff off one another that makes it highly watchable, if not downright addictive. The only downside to the show’s easygoing humor and cool capers is that the characters, though likable, lack real depth. But that’s easy enough to mine if the show is (hopefully) given a shot at another season.

It’s easy to feel like you’ll know exactly what you’ll get once you see stills from Guy Ritchie’s MobLand, which stars Tom Hardy, Pierce Brosnan, and Helen Mirren. But while it features cliches of the mafia genre, MobLand is far from boring. Plenty of things are happening all at once, and in lesser hands, these storylines would’ve been a mess. But under Ritchie’s veteran guidance, things come together elegantly. It helps that Hardy is the perfect lead. Sure, he’s tough as the London underground’s main fixer, but he’s also surprisingly polite at times and quick-wittedly humorous at others. In the show’s quieter moments, he even manages to be poignant. The changes in tone are never jarring, instead always arriving at the right time. Even if Ritchie and Hardy have directed and starred in too-many-to-mention mob stories, they still delight and surprise in this enjoyable British series.

Sirens is a psychological drama that follows Devon (Fahy) as she retrieves her sister from the grasp of her cultish, billionaire boss, Michaela (Moore). The five-part series is addictive, not just because of the juicy drama and the dagger-sharp, class-conscious dialogue, but also because of its deep understanding of the contradictions of womanhood. The women are alternately jealous and empathetic, pained and ambitious. And they’re led by a trifecta of compelling performances: it’s a thrill to watch Fahy, Moore, and Alcock go at each other’s throats.

It’s always fascinating to see how the ultra-rich live, but it’s even more fun to see them ruin themselves with greed. That’s what happens in Your Friends and Neighbors when Coop (Hamm) loses his main source of income and decides to rob his wealthy friends and neighbors. He starts slow as to remain inconspicuous: luxury watches they barely wear, paintings they pass by every day. Disposable for them, but worth a living to the increasingly broke Coop. But soon, petty thievery gives way to something more dangerous and compromising, endangering not just Coop’s status but his life. It’s a smart, entertaining show, given much heft by Jon Hamm. It’s nice to see him donning a similar character to the iconic one he gave life to in Mad Men. Here, again, he injects pathos in what would otherwise seem like a typical rich sad sack. Hamm turns Coop into someone complicated, sympathetic even, as he hides his emotional implosion behind a sleek suit. Though its class commentary is not as sharp as it should be, Your Friends and Neighbors is nonetheless a worthwhile watch—if only to see Hamm back in his element.

Toxic Town tells the true story of how toxic waste in the steel-making town of Corby, England led a group of affected mothers to pursue justice. Helping them out is pro-bono lawyer Des Collins (Rory Kinnear), while on the other end of the case is Corby’s local government, who (unsurprisingly) are in cahoots with the steel mill responsible for the poisoning. The show’s beats are familiar; it’s a classic legal drama with streaks of political corruption and conspiracy, while also being an underdog story about victims rising to the powers that be. But its familiarity is easily forgiven thanks to the heartwarming performances of Jodie Whittaker and Aimee Lou Wood, who play two of the mothers with disabled children. The show, though short at just four episodes, gives them ample space to grieve, celebrate, and essentially be human–as opposed to just angry women serving as plot points to a drama. Their humanization and compassion for one another, as well as the thrilling pace and intelligent back-and-forths, are what make the show worth watching.

Four Seasons, a series remake of the 1981 romcom of the same name, follows three married couples and the different joys, troubles, and changes their relationships go through. The writing is poignant, moving, and hilarious. Co-creator and head writer Tina Fey is no stranger to comedy, but here she moves away from her signature absurdity and touches on something more observational and real. Almost immediately, the series pulls you in and makes you feel like you’ve known this friend group for a long time. You’re sensitive to the dynamics, invested in their feelings, in on the many jokes, and counting the days you’ll see them next. And because they’re relatively well-off, the show is also a gorgeous watch. The beautiful trips they make across different seasons add to the excitement of each episode. This is a breezy, easily bingeable watch. But it’s also a heartbreaking one—brace yourself for the surprise ending.

Murderbot takes time finding its pace—the first three episodes are bogged down by heavy narration, which isn’t always helped by Skarsgård’s deadpan delivery. But once it settles into its groove, the show turns into a delightful smorgasbord of different genres. It’s sci-fi, sure, but it’s also a workplace comedy, a thriller, and perhaps indirectly, a heartwarming tribute to how outcasts can find comfort in communities and found families. Don’t be fooled by Murderbot’s name: this is a sweet show, one where an anti-human killer robot (who presumably stands in for the pessimists among us) is eventually endeared to a group of quirky, lovable, and frequently funny humans.

From the creators of Scavengers Reign and Veep comes Common Side Effects, a show that’s at once quirkily funny and chillingly relevant. It’s about Marshall, a fungi expert who finds a mushroom that heals all wounds and illnesses. As a result, he becomes a target of big pharma, insurance companies, and even government agencies, all of whom, according to Marshall, insist on keeping the mushroom from the public so they can continue to profit off people’s sickness. It sounds silly at first, like the kind of fearmongering, fact-less posts you roll your eyes at when they hit your timeline. And the show is silly, but in a different way. It has the absurdity and quirks that make adult cartoons so delightful, yes, but as a condemnation of capitalist exploitation and greed? It can’t be any sharper, especially now that medical costs are skyrocketing and the public are starting to fight back.

Led by Brian Tyree Henry (Atlanta, The Fire Inside, Bullet Train), Dope Thief is a thrilling if uneven crime comedy following two grifters (the other played by Wagner Moura) who get into deep trouble after a fake drug bust goes wrong. With cartel men and the feds chasing them, Henry and Moura’s characters must find a way to protect themselves and their loved ones, all while they process some unresolved grief and trauma. Moura is reliably great, but Henry juggles plenty of hats here—he is the emotional core, as well as often the funniest guy in the room. It gets uneven midway, but nothing some impressive and enjoyable performances can’t fix.

Set in Nunavut in northern Canada, North of North follows the joys and trials of Siaja (Lambe), a 26-year-old Inuit woman who is, for the first time, learning to live for and learn more about herself. “I went from taking care of you to taking care of him,” she tells her mother after deciding to split with her narcissistic husband. It’s a desire any ambitious person stuck in a small town or unhappy marriage will sympathize with, but things like class and race complicate Siaja’s situation. “You’re acting like a white girl with options,” her mother replies. But Siaja forges on and applies for a job in the town center. The show is mostly sweet, comedic, and inspiring (think Reservation Dogs and Parks and Recreation). Romantic comedy and workplace hijinks abound. But it doesn’t glaze over the Inuit community’s bleak history and realities. Siaja’s mom’s unfortunate experience with residential schooling, for one, and the town’s struggle with climate change, for another, provide sobering, thought-provoking moments. North of North isn’t without its flaws—the writing can be sharper and the directing tighter, with less unintentionally awkward pauses—but for the most part, it’s pleasant and hopeful, which is refreshing to watch with everything going on.

Adults is a show that tries to capture its generation’s specific joys and woes, much like what Friends did in the 90s, How I Met Your Mother did in the 2000s, Girls did in the 2010s…you get it. Like them, Adults’ core cast is comprised of a group of friends who are funny, relatable, confused, and frustrating—sometimes, to the point of annoying obnoxiousness, but it all goes back to age: these are people in their 20s. They (we) rarely make sense. At least in the 30-minute episodes the show offers, that mayhem is wrapped in bittersweet delight. It’s not without its faults, to be sure. The characters and plots are thinly sketched, saved only by the cast’s charisma and chemistry. But the first season is promising; like any young adult, it just needs time to figure out its voice.

In Pee-wee as Himself, actor Paul Reubens tells all about his notoriously private life. He sets the record straight about his sexuality. He addresses the scandals that broke out during the peak of his fame. But most importantly and interestingly, he talks about his creative process and how he created the iconic character, Pee-wee Herman. Here, too, Rubens talks about how the character consumed him to the point where he didn’t know where he started and Pee-wee ended. His insights are illuminating for any aspiring artist and actor. But the film, directed by Matt Wolf (Teenage), is also a masterclass in documentary-making. Wolf melds archival footage and photograps with Ruebens’ dreamy absurdist aesthetic, all while going head-to-head with Ruebens on the interview. Both want to control the narrative, and while their exchanges are initially playful, they turn increasingly tense and culminate in a surprising and moving ending.

Apple Cider Vinegar follows Belle Gibson, the real-life convicted scammer who founded a wellness empire based on alternative medicine. The series is an interesting character study as it paints Gibson in different shades, which Dever brings so much life into. Here she’s an exploitative scammer, tech visionary, psychopathic liar, hustler, and mother all rolled into one, so it’s not as easy as hating or feeling sorry for her character. Along with Gibson, we also follow Milli (Alycia Debnam-Carey) and Lucy (Tilda Cobham-Hervey), actual cancer patients battling the sickness in their own ways. At times, the show takes on a Mean Girls tone as Milli and Belle go head to girlboss head, but the show is at its strongest when it softens up and gives the women space to feel their specific pains. The show is sharp, entertaining, and moving enough, but I do wish it didn’t have to bury its message in layers of satire. It revels too much in that gray area between alternative living and pseudoscience when it should’ve made the dangers of the latter explicit.

Duster isn’t doing anything new by taking on organized crime and cloaking it in vibrant retro garb. But it does spin something familiar into something enjoyable to watch. The period drama is reminiscent of 1970s exploitation films—it’s funny, fast-paced, and stylish—but it never feels like a caricature of the genre. Holloway and Hilson inject their characters with plenty of heart, so whether you’re following his rugged anti-hero or her rule-breaking FBI agent, it still makes for a thrilling ride.

Stick is Apple TV+’s blatant attempt to follow up on Ted Lasso’s success. Like it, Stick is a sports dramedy that follows a washed-up, middle-aged, well-meaning man in pursuit of collective greatness. But despite their obvious similarities, Stick finds its footing and quickly becomes its own funny, moving, and irresistibly charming thing. This has a lot to do with the core characters, a group of people who can’t be any more different, and yet who connect in meaningful ways as they spend time on the road and on the course. Their chemistry and character arcs more than make up for the lack of an original story. The entire ensemble cast is great, but it’s the adults of the group—Wilson, Marc Maron, and Mariana Treviño—who give the show depth as they explore loss and grief in relatable ways. Stick sometimes feels too optimistic, but never too weepy.

The most surprising thing about Overcompensating is that, underneath the sexual romps and irreverent humor, there exists something sweet in the form of Benny and Carmen’s friendship. Yes, the show is largely about college and exploring the boundaries of freedom. It’s also about the different performances we put on in an awkward attempt to fit in and realize Who We Are. But it can also feel like it’s tackling too much at times, without a lot of novelty. College-set films and shows like Undeclared, The Sex Lives of College Girls, and even Neighbors have already treaded similar ground in sharper and funnier ways. But Overcompensating is still worth the watch, if only to see how Benny and Carmen grow and find platonic comfort in each other. Campy characters like Hallie (Holmes) and Esther (Kaia Gerber) also provide plenty of laughs and elevate it into something truly memorable.

From the creator of Peaky Blinders comes House of Guinness, a historical drama based on the family that founded the titular beer. Specifically, it follows the four heirs to the Guinness throne: hotheaded Arthur, power-hungry Edward, enlightened Anne, and troublemaker Benjamin. Like Succession before it, much of the show’s watchability stems from the siblings’ unrelenting rivalry to get what’s theirs. But in the process, the show sheds interesting, informative light on the history of Ireland. You might not learn about the brewing process, necessarily, but you will be entertained by the drama, history, and forbidden romances.

In many ways, the NBA is the face of basketball. They don’t just develop athletes, they create superstars—idols that people turn to for hope and inspiration. But even though the NBA is technically American, it’s never been more populated with international players than today. When it comes to the Olympics, that means fierce and exciting global competition. It’s hard to capture the enormity of all that, but Court of Gold succeeds with flying colors. The show strays from run-of-the-mill narration and generic footage. Instead, it gives us what we want: inside access into what goes down behind the scenes. We follow the top four teams in the games—USA, France, Serbia, and Canada—and hear from the athletes themselves. Kevin Durant, Victor Wembanyama, Nikola Jokić, and Shai Gilgeous-Alexander are some of the representatives who stand out the most. Some of these interviews and fly-on-the-wall moments prove to be even just as (if not more) exciting than the showdown on the court. But the latter is undeniably thrilling. It doesn’t matter that you know who takes the gold, or even that you care enough about the game. Court of Gold is a well-made example of showmanship and athleticism, as well as a wonderful attempt at humanizing larger-than-life stars.

The Residence is a treat for fans of whodunnit mysteries, primarily because it plays homage to the genre more than anything. Each episode is titled after a well-known mystery, like “Dial M for Murder” and “Knives Out,” which speaks to its self-awareness. But the show is more than just a Sherlock knock-off. It boasts a colorful cast of characters, many of whom are given enough backstory and depth for us to empathize with. Most striking of all is Detective Cupp herself, who is eccentric, confident, and very easy to like. She whizzes through The White House’s hundreds of rooms equipped with quirky one-liners and a jazzy score, so it never feels like she overstays her welcome. As far as murder mysteries go, The Residence may not present the trickiest puzzle nor the most cerebral dialogue, but it’s smart, funny, and likable. By the end of the finale, you’ll wish to see more of the cast.

Rivals is a heady dose of 1980s maximalism set against the backdrop of a seemingly quiet British countryside. The result is intoxicating: bored wives and polite language conceal carnal desires and immoral methods to reach the top. There’s a lot of sex, but it’s not necessarily sexy. It’s more campy than steamy, even though some characters do forge relationships that turn out to be romantic and true. There’s a lot of shouting and slapstick humor, as well as messages advocating sexual empowerment, which went against the conservatism that was rampant in the ‘80s. It’s reminiscent of Netflix’s Sex Education in that way, even and especially in terms of its bingeability (I finished the first season in one sitting). There’s a lot to like, after all. For every David Tennant and Aidan Turner screaming their heads off, there are more subtle performances from the likes of Nafessa Williams, Bella Maclean, Claire Rushbrook, Danny Dyer, and the ever-lovely Katherine Parkinson.

Lockerbie is a devastating time-hopping journey that tells the story of how the UK’s deadliest terror attacks came to be and how the victims’ loved ones coped and pursued justice, despite all odds. It takes on multiple perspectives—political, psychological—and resembles many genres at once—thriller, mystery, drama. But more than anything, it’s a story about grief, trauma, and as the title suggests, an inspiring pursuit of the truth. at its core, it’s a story about grief. Swire’s family is traumatized, and they all cope in different ways. It’s about what people, a community, can do when they’re sad and wronged. They can band together and demand justice in inspiring ways. It’s moving, but it has teeth too. It takes down the apathy and the secrecy of institutions more interested in protecting their own than the greater good.

Romantic comedies used to be a dime a dozen in the 2000s, but now it seems like a dying genre, filled with mere shadows of what once was. That’s why when a good one comes along, you recognize it immediately: a good romcom revitalizes our ideas of love and life. It’s injected with a freshness that makes old feelings seem brand new. You get that in the British film Rye Lane, the Apple TV+ series Platonic series, and the Aussie gem Colin from Accounts, to name some recent examples. You can also find that same spark in Nobody Wants This, a breezy and effortlessly funny romantic comedy about two star-crossed adults trying to make their relationship work despite family disapproval, work demands, and that nagging fear of being hurt once more. The series is helmed by an impressive roster of writers and directors including Greg Mottola (Adventureland, Superbad), Karen Maine (Obvious Child), and Oz Rodriguez (The Last Man on Earth). It’s reminiscent of the indie romcoms of the last decade while shedding some much-needed spotlight on middle-aged dating. My only gripe is that this would’ve worked so much better as a punchy feature film. Instead, it’s dragged to the typical Netflix length of 10 episodes, but at least each runs only for a breezy 30 minutes.

You’d be forgiven for assuming Celtics City would be like most sports documentaries on TV—unremarkable and over-the-top. But in this case, Celtics City deserves to be over the top. The NBA team, perhaps more than any in the league, has such a rich history, filled with wins and losses, joys and failures, shame and impact, that it makes sense to tell their story in multiple episodes. It’s not indulgent or forced, it’s deserved. The first part alone is an expertly woven argument about how race and sports, at least in America, are inextricable. You can’t talk about the Boston Celtics without recognizing the incredible things Bill Russell has done for the team, and yet that’s what happened in the ‘50s. This smart discourse, along with the thrilling footage of past games and the exclusive interviews with Celtics members past and present make Celtics City stand out among the many, many sports docs out there.

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.

A more cynical viewer might be put off by the pity party that happens in the first hour of When Live Gives You Tangerines (although as far as K-dramas go, this one is pretty mild). There is plenty of crying, especially by the child actors who seem forced to do the act. But it’s worth sitting through; the events that follow are lovely and moving. Set in the countryside of post-war South Korea, the series follows a young couple as they elope and raise a family with little means. It gets cheesy at times but leads IU and Park Bo-gum nail their characters to the ground, always keeping them relatable, likable, and true to times. The immersive production design and the clever time jumps pull you in and keep you longing for the next episode.

Set in Tulsa, The Lowdown follows Lee Raybon (Ethan Hawke), a bookstore owner by day and investigative journalist by night. When he uncovers secrets harbored by the powers-that-be in Oklahoma, he finds himself in tricky situations, which he navigates with an amusing mix of awkwardness and finesse. The premise is nothing new, but Hawke delivers a hell of a performance: he’s electric, never stagnant, and dials up the general tone without ever being too much. The script is sharp and funny enough, but it’s Hawke and his peers’ performances that solidify The Lowdown as a must-watch, especially for fans of noir.

Untamed moves slowly at first, but the pace pays off once you realize how Turner’s story is as much of a mystery as the case he’s solving, and how people can turn out to be as savage as the wild. It’s this balance between inner turmoil and outer chaos, bolstered by A-plus performances from the cast, that elevates Untamed from your typical murder mystery. Untamed is also a picturesque show. Even in its wildest and goriest moments (and even if most of it was filmed in Canada, not Yosemite), it remains stunning to look at.

Set in a high-crime neighborhood in Philadelphia, the series follows Mickey (Seyfried), a cop in search of her missing sister Kacey (Ashleigh Cummings), a struggling addict. Mickey believes her disappearance is connected to the strange series of deaths among female addicts in the city, but because her department would rather keep a blind eye, she has to investigate both cases in secret. All the while, she’s raising a child on her own and battling personal demons that trace back to her childhood. The premise, admittedly, is nothing you haven’t seen before. It even looks like the many other police thrillers out there, what with its grayed coloring and serious demeanors. It’s also paced similarly: slowly and surely. But what the series lacks in originality and speed, it more than makes up for in heart. It reframes common narratives about addicts—do they deserve help?—and urges us to sympathize with them, instead of ignoring or altogether ostracizing them.

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 you combined the family business shenanigans of Arrested Development with the behind-the-scenes league drama of Ted Lasso, then you’d have Running Point, which is less funny than those two sitcoms, but just as watchable and full of heart. The half-hour comedy series is co-created by Mindy Kaling (The Office, The Sex Lives of College Girls) so you can expect the same feminist-streaked brand of humor here, which amusingly tempers with the athletes’ (initial) machoness. Along with being funny, it’s often informational, like when it takes us into the gritty business of trading and dealing within the league, or when it reveals the pressure—financial, societal, or otherwise—athletes have to go through. Its satire of rich people isn’t as sharp as it could be, but it’s still an enjoyable series nonetheless. Hudson and Chet Hanks, who plays the hardheaded star player Travis Bugg, are charming standouts.