100 Best 2024 Shows You Should Watch Right Now

It takes some time for the action to pick up, with the off-putting atmosphere and various character dynamics being opted to be slow-cooked. The choice certainly pays off with an ecosystem of concerning little stories slowly crashing into each other like dominoes, and creating drama that you have to pursue in the next episode. There’s an uneasiness about the whole story largely carried by the settings alone—the rain, the houses, the nearby establishments, etc. It can be a little difficult to pick up on the intricate details at first, and the prodding pace certainly isn’t for a lot people, but for those who stay, there is an intriguing story that awaits.

If Wise Guy reads like a biography of David Chase and an oral history of The Sopranos, that’s because it is simultaneously both those things. Chase’s story is The Sopranos’ and vice versa. As Chase reveals in this two-part documentary, The Sopranos was initially based on his mother and his childhood in New Jersey. But then the show evolved into something more profound and complex than anyone could’ve imagined. Free from the reins of network TV, it relished in its R-rating creativity and quickly became a cultural phenomenon. People tuned into it every night. It was celebrated and parodied in equal measure. Most important of all, it ushered in a new era of prestige television that valued substance more than anything else. There’s no better person to guide us through the ins and outs and behind-the-scenes of The Sopranos than the showrunner himself. Director Alex Gibney parallels his interview with Chase with scenes from the show, even matching its colors and texture, to further prove how inextricable Chase is from his creation. We see never-before-seen clips of casting, script writing, reception—the works. Wise Guy must be heaven-sent to hardcore Sopranos fans, but it’s also the perfect introduction for the uninitiated.

If you’ve seen one too many true crime documentaries, you might shake your head at the things sixteen-year-old Penelope does upon running away from her high school camp. You might (rightly) ask, why is she camping in the middle of nowhere all alone? Why is she trusting all these different strangers who, for all she knows, could be a serial killer or a trafficker? And why approach that bear? Why sleep in that clearing? But the sooner you let go of those worries and accept that Penelope is more of a fable about growing up and finding yourself than it is a literal survival tale, the better. Which isn’t to say it fails as the latter—Penelope is surprisingly watchable as she learns the ways of the wilderness. In fact, one near-silent episode is dedicated to just Penelope learning the ropes, literally, and it’s one of the season’s best. As long as you don’t get stuck in the details of Penelope’s journey and take aside your cynicism for just a while, you’ll find something touching and humanizing in this short but sweet series.

Partially due to the surviving Norse myths, as well as certain modernized cinematic depictions, most people think of the Norse gods as fairly benevolent, if a bit violent, entities. With Zack Synder at the helm, it’s unsurprising that he would take an edgier approach to the Twilight of the Gods, but this time, it works well, transforming these arbitrarily powerful beings as the villains they would actually be, at least in the perspective of the humans trampled by their thoughtlessness. It’s beautifully depicted, with lovely character designs and great voice performances, and it’s an interesting depiction of a mythology not often depicted.

It’s been five years since the bombshell interview between the BBC’s Emily Maitlis and the the British monarchy’s Prince Andrew took place, yet it continues to intrigue, if the nonstop release of dramatizations are anything to go by. The latest entry is the three-part series A Very Royal Scandal, which mainly focuses on Maitlis as a workaholic journalist intent on getting the scoop, even if it means sacrifcing time spent at home. Apart from Maitlis, we’re also privy to His Royal Highness’ point of view, which is a mix privileged naivitie, paternal sweetness, and dumb lust. Compared to Netflix’s Scoop, which is more interested in the BBC booker Sam McAlister’s POV, Amazon Prime’s A Very Royal Scandal is by nature deeper and more explorative. It’s also more exciting and less salacious in tone. Paired with a suspenseful score, smart editing, and rich backdrops, the series is a near-masterclass on how to make treaded ground feel fresh again.

When adapting a novel, television showrunners have to transform the text into video, so sometimes, things get cut, lines get shortened, and sometimes what you and the author imagine from the book doesn’t match up on screen. Luckily, for Interior Chinatown, that’s not the case– the novel is already in a screenplay format, and the mini-series is being handled by the very same guy who wrote it, Charles Wu. The satire novel was pretty experimental, so it’s no surprise that the series holds the same playful energy as the book, but this time, playing with stylistic expectations (see: every time the faux leads enters a room) and genre expectations to create a meta levelling up quest for a background character to finally shine through. And with a stacked cast (Jimmy O. Yang, Ronny Chieng, and Chloe Bennet), the humorous plot cleverly challenges the ways Hollywood has excluded and stereotyped Asian Americans, and the way this plays out in real life.

Much like creator Taylor Sheridan’s other works (notably Yellowstone), Landman is a sweeping epic about the modern American dream that doubles as an intricate family drama. It mostly succeeds on the former front: Billy Bob Thorton and Jon Hamm go head to head as the gritty roughneck and the slick billionaire, respectively. The series is at its best when it shows us how tough, cruel, and eventually vulnerable these men can be. But it creaks on the latter front: Thorton isn’t as convincing as a family man. And the female members of the family are so thinly drawn that it’s hard to see them as anything more than caricatures. But Sheridan has redeemed himself a couple of times when it comes to female characterization, so I can only assume they’ll get better as more seasons roll in. Landman isn’t exactly as gripping or thrilling as it could’ve been, but it has enough appeal (mostly from Thorton and Hamm) to keep you seated.

If you are a historian, a communist, a capitalist, a Russian or American citizen, you would likely already have opinions about the Cold War. But regardless of your knowledge on the topic, there’s no denying that Netflix docuseries Turning Point: The Bomb and the Cold War is such an ambitious documentary, dedicating a whopping 9 hours to explain the Cold War and its ramifications in such a comprehensive, well-paced way, trying to balance between various perspectives from all over the world. Of course, being from an American production company, it does slightly lean towards the American perspective, with some of the Netflix flair that you can see in their other documentaries. Nonetheless, The Bomb and the Cold War is a handy explainer to the history that still shapes many of today’s conflicts.

Despite its name, Funny Woman isn’t all laughs. Though it follows Barbara in her quest to become a comic, it’s also a serious drama that tackles the sexism she faces in a male-dominated field and the prejudice she’s dealt with as a lower-class Northerner. Through secondary characters, we also get to see the show deal with racism and homophobia. These elements make the show feel modern, but they also make it feel less realistic. Many of the characters already share progressive views, which doesn’t just leave little room for growth, but also feels dishonest to the times. The back-and-forth between slapstick and serious can also make for jarring viewing. Thankfully, the show’s problems take a backseat to its wonderful performances. Arterton isn’t always funny (at times, she’s upstaged by her roommate Marj, played by Alexa Davies) but she has a lot of heart and charm, as does the show itself, which ultimately makes it an entertaining and comforting watch.

Ludwig is a classic whodunnit with an interesting twist—the detective solving murder mysteries isn’t a cool genius like Sherlock or a goofy alien like Doctor Who. Instead, he’s a regular middle-aged man who just happens to be really good at solving puzzles. This, in turn, makes him see patterns in murder cases that would otherwise take the police years to solve. The series is amusing in that sense. Here’s a likable old recluse who doesn’t know how the internet works and how to be around people, yet he’s often the smartest man in the room. And you have a new puzzle to solve with him per episode, like Columbo. But the series’s core mystery—where is Ludwig’s twin brother, and how long before his team figures out his disguise?—is a compelling one. It’s the thread that connects all episodes, and it builds up in a way that makes it impossible to quit watching. You’ll have to finish the entire series to find the answers to the questions it set up. You’re not Ludwig after all.