100 Best 2024 Shows So Far

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.

Structured more like a network procedural than a gritty streaming miniseries, the TV adaptation of The Lincoln Lawyer feels easy, even nostalgic, to watch. The formula is simple: in every episode, Mickey handles a new case (most of them wrongful convictions against people on the fringe), all while dealing with a larger, more complicated case and his inner demons. There to help is his trusty driver Izzy (Jazz Raycole), who gets him everywhere in his Lincoln Town Car, and his two ex-wives, with whom he shares a surprisingly healthy relationship. All these elements come together to make an entertaining legal drama. It’s not the most compelling thing out there, but it’s consistently enjoyable and endlessly likable.

How far would you go to please the one you love? You might indulge your spouse with a white lie every now and then like the men in Swathi Shetty’s life each time she asks about her cooking, but Killer Soup takes it a whole step further when she asks Umesh to impersonate her similar-looking husband. And, as the lies pile up, and the cover-ups escalate, it’s delicious to see the lovers dig themselves into a deeper hole, even if they manage to throw off other people from the scent temporarily. While the story gets slightly convoluted later on due to many subplots, Killer Soup proves to at least be tastier than Swathi’s paya soup with its delightfully twisted lovers.

With its slice-of-life approach, A Sign of Affection immediately tugs at the heartstrings with its sweet romance between a deaf university student and a multilingual traveller from manga duo Suu Morishita. The anime adaptation sees the world in Yuki’s eyes, with delicately lined shapes and pink-tinted watercolor paired with Sumire Morohoshi’s sweet voice, and it’s lovely to see the unjaded, kind way she interprets the world. The series does have some of the familiar romance tropes, like love triangles, wingman friends, and the glowy, bokeh lighting, but it’s sort of the point in this charming show. A Sign of Affection likens the careful, hesitant way of falling in love with the way Yuki interacts with the world, or rather, the reactions abled people have to her disability.

Succession, whether that be of family assets or of job titles, is always a tricky situation to navigate– often, those choosing a successor would have to check in with the possible choices next in line in order to make sure there are no resentment, otherwise, it could drive the hillside horror present in The Bequeathed. From passive-aggressive co-workers to mourning relatives, Yoon Seo-ha is having a terrible time dealing with the succession situation, both being resented by a superstitious half-brother for the land and resentful of a co-worker who got promoted before her. It’s so easy to suspect potential rivals, especially when murder strikes those around you, but The Bequeathed also recognizes something scarier– the fear of what you could do with that resentment.

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.

In a TV age where dark comedies and slick satires are all the rage, The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin is refreshingly light, good-hearted fun. Its humor leans on the surreal, silly, and slapstick, but it doesn’t necessarily sacrifice smarts for a laugh. Here, the legendary robber is reimagined as a reluctant criminal who is more interested in knitting and doing his friends good, a rather sweet fool who unwittingly stands at the opposite end of toxic masculinity. There are jokes about equal pay and light commentaries on class inequality (Turpin and his so-called Essex Gang want to only rob the inordinately wealthy), and you’d think it was all too much, but the show achieves a confident, balanced tone that’s hard to question.

Regardless of age, most viewers would be familiar with the way alcoholic drinks are portrayed in the media as a gateway to uncontrollable debauchery and addiction, but rarely has the art of mixing them been depicted. Bartender: Glass of God mixes cocktails in a refreshing way, portraying the bar not just as a glamorous place for adults to have fun and meet people, but as a place to feel human, to be truly seen as a person at a certain point in time and to be treated with compassion just through a simple beverage. With bar culture around the world having been slowly closing down, Bartender: Glass of God remembers the artistry and care behind each drink.

Every now and then, you get a romantic comedy that feels just right. The romance isn’t overdone, the comedy isn’t used as a crutch, and there’s no desperate need to lean into cliches. Instead, you have pure chemistry, which in turn fuels an endearing awkwardness and a natural sort of love. That’s what happens in the Australian half-hour sitcom Colin From Accounts—despite the premise and the familiarness of the genre, everything just seems to fall right into place. Dyer and Brammall’s riffs feel so natural and intimate, I could listen to them flirt with each other all day and only get mildly annoyed. Like most romcoms, there’s a bit of raunchiness and sweetness to be found here, but what I find most impressive is its ability to generate endless laugh-out-loud moments. I won’t be surprised if this turns out to be people’s new favorite comfort show.

It’s always nice to be able to identify with a group of people on television, but it’s especially entertaining when they’re a hilarious bunch. That’s what the Jessops are, at once relatable and ridiculous, mundane and misfortune-prone. Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and somehow their troubles worsen anytime they try to fix them or keep a straight face. It sounds strange, but in a TV landscape of bleak comedies and cynical dramas, it’s refreshing and validating to watch the average middle-class family struggle with the same problems we’re having, whether that’s figuring out a good career or trying to reignite the spark of a marriage. That we see all this unfold through the handheld lens of Sam, the youngest of the family, adds a layer of intimacy and charm that makes Here We Go an imminently comforting watch.