100 Best 2024 Shows So Far

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.

You can tell showrunner David E. Kelley, who played a part in legal dramas and mysteries like Boston Legal, Ally McBeal, and Big Little Lies, is a master of the genre. Presumed Innocent is carefully paced, confidently performed, and smartly written, making it a thrilling watch regardless if you’ve seen the 1990 feature and 1987 novel of the same name. It’s not without its misses though, the biggest one being the lack of believable chemistry between Gyllenhaal and Reinsve, who seems miscast in this series. As much as I loved her in The Worst Person in the World, she seems to exude an awkward sensuality that affects the realism of the series. On the other hand, Ruth Negga, who plays Gyllenhaal’s wife, and Peter Sarsgaard, who plays his political rival, command every scene they’re in and perfectly match Gyllenhaal’s crazed intensity. Whenever the show skews formulaic, it’s their solid performances that save the scene.

It’s best to go into Diarra from Detroit with zero knowledge and expectations, but even if you do know a bit about its comedian star, writer, and director, Diarra still comes at you with wild but always funny curveballs. Some parts of the story are implausible, but it doesn’t matter: Diarra sells them with gusto. And the series has so many other things going for it, not least of which is Diarra’s internal turmoil, which often bleeds into the mystery she obsesses over. It’s crazy but humane, and Diarra’s one-liners are always home runs.

Chimp Crazy, like Tiger King before it, is a difficult watch. It follows chimpanzee owners and their almost fanatic loyalty to the primates (one famously breastfed a chimp and raised her as her child), but mostly it trails Tonia Haddix, an animal broker who is obsessed with the 32-year-old chimp and sometime Hollywood star Tonka. I won’t spoil the things she does to save their relationship, but I assure you it’s chilling and outrageous. That said, shock isn’t the only thing Chimp Crazy has going for it. The curious way it’s filmed is surely cause for debate. And the way everyone here—whether that’s Haddix, the occasional dangerous chimp, or the near-manipulative director Eric Goode—seems at once manipulative and sympathetic is a feat of its own.

Taking a cue from Blaxploitation films, Fight Night looks every bit like the ‘70s movies that screamed fun and danger. But the eight-part series starring Kevin Hart is more than just a schtick. It’s a thoughtfully constructed heist thriller that doubles as a showcase for its stacked cast and a love letter, of sorts, to Atlanta and how it came to be the Black-powered city that it is today. There’s never a dull moment in the show; if it’s not pulling the rug from under you by showing you a heist-within-a-heist, or one backstabber from another, then it’s entertaining you with a wide range of equally compelling performances. There’s the competent Hart, the reliably commanding Taraji P. Henson, the likable straight man Don Cheadle, the surprisingly subdued Samuel L. Jackson, and the impressive ingenue Chloe Bailey, among many, many others. Then there’s Hart’s character’s vision of Atlanta, at once inspiring and chillingly accurate. It’s not a perfect show—it has its cartoonish moments—but it’s enjoyable and insightful as a whole.

It’s easy to forget that Netflix helped boost the popularity of the true crime genre, especially since it’s pumping out a new series almost daily. A lot of them are rushed and sensationalized, but there are a few that are worthwhile. Into the Fire is thankfully the latter. Showrunner Jenna Lamia and Director Susanne Bier tell Terkanian and her daughter’s story in a refreshingly measured way, making sure to hone in on Terkanian’s restless energy. It’s that energy that rallies the community behind her in breaking open the case and uncovering many more missing persons besides her daughter. The same energy makes the show feel more dynamic and alive than other true crime documentaries. It’s also more restrained and respectful. No overdramatized suspense or sensationalized twists here, just an incredibly true story, cleverly and humanely told.

High Potential isn’t the smartest thing out there, despite Morgan’s impressive 160 IQ. It’s also not the quirkiest of its kind (hello, Elsbeth!). But it’s undeniably enjoyable, thanks in large part to Olson, who injects her character with so much wit, charm, and tenderness. Played wrong, Morgan could’ve been yet another annoying Sherlock-type, but in Olson’s capable hands, she’s anything but. It’s still too early to tell whether the surrounding characters will match her infectious energy, but I am seated and excited for more to come.

When a show is focused on a kid and their sport, chances are, the main character holds a passion for the sport itself. They saw it, they thought it was cool, and they tried it out. Blue Box, however, takes an unconventionally depicted, but no less honest, motivation– the energizing power of having a crush. The way Taiki goes about it feels reminiscent of that first childhood crush, with the excitement, the determination, and the pure mortification each time he perceives to have jumped the gun, but it’s all made endearing with the characterization, writing, and the beautiful render, and it’s easily driven by the familiar device of having to share the same residence. Blue Box is just so darn cute.

Man on the Inside may be a detective show, but at its core, it’s a series about the beauty and pain of aging. It follows recently widowed Charles as he befriends the residents at a nursing home he’s secretly investigating for thievery. Despite himself, Charles opens up, which complicates the case but gives the story all of its heart. Not a lot of shows are willing to sift through the realities of old age, and even when they do they tend to focus (understandably) on the painful aspects of it–death, grief, sickness. Man on the Inside is a welcome reminder that there’s more to it too. There’s the freedom to be who you are, and family and friendships to strengthen. Man on the Inside won’t be the sharpest mystery you’ll see anytime soon, but it just might be one of the most poignant and heartwarming ones you’ll watch. It might also get you to call up an elderly loved one and check in on them, finally.

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 dispensible, 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.