100 Best 2024 Shows So Far

Baby Reindeer is a tough watch, starting out with out of kilter comedy that eventually and unrelentingly reveals its darker and darker sides. But not only was this a hard show to watch, this story is genuinely difficult to tell, because of how entangled all the threads of Donny’s trauma gets– it’s not a straightforward story about going through one traumatic incident and then immediately moving to logical forms of healing. It’s about one traumatic incident keeping him stuck and leaving him and his loved ones vulnerable to even more abuse. It’s a terrifying situation. And it’s terribly, terribly honest.

Telling a thoughtful story about the Northern Ireland Troubles and the IRA, including all its crimes and glories, is quite the feat. But Say Nothing proves it up to the task. The nine-part miniseries features compelling performances, a whipsmart script, taut timing, and impeccable production design (despite spanning four decades, it always looks true to the era). Its most impressive trait, however, is that it manages to show all sides of this complex story in an understanding light. The rebellion has noble aims, but it’s still fallible. The British army establishes order, but their means don’t always justify their ends. The series isn’t appeasing all sides as much as it’s taking a long hard look at them. We’re invited to reexamine this crucial part of history and ask ourselves, under the circumstances, would we too say nothing or everything to save lives?

The initial charm of Hacks is in watching sparks fly between its sharp-tongued leads. Neither the elderly Deborah nor the young Ava holds back the digs, both of them cutting to the core of their insecurities. Part of what makes their tension so watchable is that they’re stand-ins for different generations. Deborah represents the all-hustle culture of the boomers, while Ava represents burned-out millennials. Lock them in a scene together and you get endless (and endlessly funny) observations about the modern world.

Eventually, however, their relationship deepens into something more meaningful than that. As Deb and Ava bond over their shared hopes and flaws, the show transforms into a clever and tender two-hander about their prickly but profound relationship. They’re two sides of the same coin, and even though no one can bring them down like the other can, the opposite is also true: no one else can lift them and push them to new heights like the other can.

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.

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.

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.

From the producers of Superbad and Pineapple Express, stoner filmmakers Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg, comes a deft deconstruction of the ubiquitous superhero genre on Amazon Prime. Based on the comic book of the same name by Garth Ennis and Darick Robertson, it is set in a world where god-like superheroes, or Supes, are recognized as heroes but are increasingly self-absorbed, arrogant, and corrupt underneath their flying capes. The best of them are called The Seven, aggressively marketed and monetized by the Vought Corporation, complete with Instagram likes, energy drink advertisements, and TV appearances. It all starts to slowly deteriorate when the girlfriend of Hughie Campbell (Jack Quaid) gets obliterated by A-Train (Jessie Usher), a super-fast hero modelled on Flash, galvanizing The Boys, a crazy normal-human vigilante group led by Butcher (Karl Urban, pictured above), who are sick and tired of the Supes and their corruption. This show packs a multitude of wacky characters, including Frenchie, our favorite, a hilarious and romantic French bomb expert. Don’t forget to fasten your seatbelts because this is a fast-paced, mean-spirited bloodbath that is as wild as it is entertaining.

Part police-procedural and part supernatural thriller, The Devil’s Hour is the perfect show to binge if you love solving complicated puzzles and don’t mind being spooked by the occasional jump scare. It’s also co-produced by Steven Moffat, who was the brain behind equally mind-bending thrillers Sherlock (BBC) and Doctor Who.

The six-parter follows social worker Lucy Chambers as she looks after potential victims, a behaviorally challenged son, and a schizophrenic mother—and this is on top of her personal problems, which include bloody hallucinations and waking up every day at exactly 3:33 am, or what she dubs the devil’s hour. There are a lot of moving parts in The Devil’s Hour, but aside from the intricate world-building, it’s the powerful performances from Jessica Raine and Peter Capaldi that truly anchor this ambitious show.

From a short pilot episode in October 2019, Hazbin Hotel has finally opened its doors for the small screen four years later. With the hellish premise and raunchy humor, it was surprising that A24 would choose this weird show from indie animator VivziePop as its first dip into animation, but with its release on Prime Video, it was totally the right choice. Reimagining the underworld as a red, white, and black urban, well, hellscape, Hazbin Hotel has such a bizarre mix of excellently handled mature themes, musical earnestness, and raunchy humor that just hasn’t been seen before.

Watching The Day of the Jackal feels like watching a film; it’s taut, fast-paced, and flashy, featuring incredible dual performances by Redmayne and Lynch. Like many thrillers before it, The Day of the Jackal centers on a cat-and-mouse chase between an official and a transgressor, but the series smartly blurs the line between good and evil. Redmayne’s Jackal is by all accounts the bad guy—he’s a hitman after all—but we’re shown his humane side and the lives he works hard to protect. Meanwhile, Lynch’s Bianca is a government agent, but her hands are dirtied with just as much (if not more) blood than the Jackal. Who’s really at fault here? Part of the fun in watching this is figuring that out, but it’s also just as enjoyable to see what disguise the Jackal whips out, and what moral quandary Bianca finds herself deep in, next.