60 Best Apple TV Shows Right Now

Fictionalizing their famous friends to satirize Hollywood isn’t new for Rogen and Goldberg (see: the stupidly brilliant This is the End), but in The Studio, the writing pair trade manchild and weed jokes for something more adult and high stakes. Rogen is still playing a version of himself—an anxious goofball eager to please—but he just so happens to be a bigshot producer now, and so a bigshot producer he plays. The pair take it a step further by making Rogen’s Matt Remick the head of a billion-dollar studio, Continental Pictures. And so it’s the usual hijinks, but this time with deeper (and depressing) insight into the industry’s inner workings. Rogen employs a circus car’s worth of renowned actors and directors to play themselves, all delivering hilarious performances. Martin Scorsese and Sarah Polley are early standouts.

Dickinson takes more than a few creative liberties in telling the story of one of America’s greatest poets, Emily Dickinson (played here by the effervescent Hailee Steinfeld). As soon as the first pop song blasts in the background, followed by more than a few expletives blurted by the characters, it becomes clear that the series is more interested in making Emily’s life story not just understandable to a new generation, but timeless and universal too; it’s a tale about freeing oneself from the constraints of gender and society, and how regardless of whether you succeed or not, it’s the attempts that keep us human. 

The series is funny and tender and vivacious, kept afloat by its modern sensibility and desire to showcase a whole new side of Emily. Here, she’s a fighter, a (queer) lover, and an intellectual. But she’s also spoiled, narrowminded, and selfish—she is after all, still a growing girl. Dickinson succeeds on two counts: as an enlightening biopic, artistic license notwithstanding, and as an energizing coming-of-age series, complete with awkward epiphanies and inspiring character developments. 

Trying is a realistic but charming take on couples venturing to build a life and stable future for themselves. Heavy themes are tackled here, like infertility, infidelity, and parenthood, but the immensely likable couple that is Nikki and Jase guide us through the murky ups and downs of them all. Their heart and humor aren’t just comforting to watch, they’re also inspiring in a TV age obsessed with heavy dramatics. Like Ted Lasso, Abbott Elementary, and other well-meaning shows like it, Trying is a bit of lighthearted fare that we’d do well to indulge in every now and then.

Based on Epic magazine’s column of the same name, Little America is an anthology series based on real-life immigrant stories. The episodes vary in plot, topic, and even era—they’re as diverse as the characters themselves—but they are all connected by one thing: the hope of achieving the American Dream. In one episode, an Iranian father sets out to build his family’s dream home in a bid to prevent his son from moving out. In another, a second-generation Korean-American struggles to find his calling, much to the dismay of his war-survivor parents (“What do you know about suffering?” the mother, played by Parasite’s Lee Jung-eun asks when her son complains about med school).

Co-created by Lee Eisenberg, Kumail Nanjiani, and Emily Gordon (The Big Sick) and directed by Sian Heder (CODA), Little America is a heartwarming collection of stories, as moving as it is urgent. It’s easy to miss this over splashier shows on TV, but trust that this one’s worth tuning into.

In Shrinking, Jason Segel plays Jimmy Laird a newly-widowed therapist who’s trying to make amends with his loved ones after isolating himself for so long. It sounds depressing, but Shrinking has the delightful buoyancy of a show like Ted Lasso (which makes sense given that they’re created and directed by the same person) and even Trying, that other Apple TV+ show that masterfully balances seriousness and silliness. Like them, Shrinking is warm and affecting, but it has one undeniable advantage: Harrison Ford. Ford plays Segel’s boss, and if you aren’t onboard yet, Shrinking is definitive proof that Harrison is actually, objectively hilarious.

There is an art to making a comedy that can be enjoyed by all ages—a balance must be kept between mature and genial humor, serious and unserious matters—and it’s an art that Acapulco manages to execute with finesse. There’s something for everyone here, whether you’re a kid looking for a good story or an adult wishing to drive by memory lane.

The colors are vibrant, the characters are alive, and the plot, while familiar, is charming nonetheless. But perhaps the best thing about Acapulco is its call for viewers to be kind. It’s never explicit or preachy about it; it just comes naturally, by way of practice.

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.

It’s one of the oldest problems in the history of mankind: can men and women be friends? Romantic comedies, since their inception, have tried to answer this question in various quirky ways, and almost always, the answer is a resounding no. The two leads must end up together because the chemistry is too strong, and besides, love can only end in romance. Right? Platonic is one of a handful of shows that knows there’s no straightforward answer to that question. It’s thoughtful and nuanced as it subverts rom-com expectations and refuses to rush into a template happy ending. Even more impressive is the fact that it gives us a hefty dose of reality while still being light-hearted, funny, and charming. Whether that’s thanks to the easy chemistry between Sylvia and Will (played by longtime collaborators Rose Bryne and Seth Rogen) or to the refreshing experience of having a familiar dilemma be treated with newfound profundity, there’s no doubt that Platonic puts a fresh new spin on the genre.

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.

Mythic Quest is a workplace sitcom following the fictional video game studio Mythic Quest HQ. Created by the people behind It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, the series is equal parts sentimental and funny, and with each episode running at more or less 30 minutes, it’s also a breeze to watch. This isn’t to say that Mythic Quest doesn’t have substance; on the contrary, one of its many strengths is its ability to parody the gaming industry. The show is laced with the kind of sharp wit that’s found in the smartest of satires. 

Gaming enthusiasts will surely find an instant liking to the series, but even those who aren’t familiar with the technicals won’t have any trouble connecting to the show’s sweet center. 

As classic children’s TV done in the same style as The Muppets, this reboot of Jim Henson’s Fraggle Rock manages to thread together wacky adventures, an environmental message, lots of music, and light satire about human behavior in less-than-30-minute chunks. This show is firmly for kids first, with the carefree, somewhat naive subterranean Fraggles meant to be childlike in nature as they learn how to accept others’ differences and their own complicated feelings through kindness and community. But parents who are at all interested in colorful variety shows should still find lots to enjoy, be it in the intricate craft of puppetry across various species of creatures, or in the genuinely catchy songs that range from innocent earworms to beautifully composed anthems straight out of the musical theater tradition.

Because of the format, Margo’s Got Money Troubles doesn’t quite have the same laugh-out-loud humor as the original novel– televised series, after all, can’t run entirely on the sharp internal monologue that worked on the page. However, that doesn’t mean it should be written off entirely. It’s still pretty funny, but the series mostly shifts its focus on empathizing with Margo and the choices she’s pushed to make. Like her journey, the show takes a while to set things up, though once it does, her impulsive choice easily rolls into a series of plot-worthy consequences. Some of which are financially difficult, as hinted by the title. Sometimes, as in the case with her dad, it’s easy to see how the ensemble can grow and change, maybe even into something better. It helps that the main trio– Elle Fanning, Nick Offerman, and Michelle Pfeiffer– are absolutely charming as the center family.

Based on Nathan Pyle’s famed webcomics of the same name, Strange Planets is a blunt and offbeat series that encapsulates the magic of Pyle’s internet-famous relatable aliens. It uses a sitcom format (complete with recurring characters) to play on the absurdity of these human-like aliens and their human-like problems. With well-delivered jokes, crisp animation, and simple storylines, Strange Planets doesn’t overcomplicate its premise, making it an easy, enjoyable watch. Although the writing and scenarios aren’t entirely original—outside of Pyle’s signature descriptive alien diction, that is—the wholesome, no-brainer vibe is a welcome change in pace for adult animation. Pyle’s original work brought humor to the mundanity of everyday living, and the show (co-created with TV veteran Dan Harmon) doesn’t disappoint.

When long-term couple Melissa (Cecily Strong) and Josh (Keegan-Michael Key) sign up for a backpacking retreat to save their failing relationship, they find themselves instead in the magical town of Schmigadoon, where life is a vibrant, zany, 1940s musical and everyone—from the mayor to the carnie—sings their heart out. It’s all fun and games until Melissa and Josh learn they cannot leave Schmigadoon until they find true love. Shocked to know that they aren’t each other’s one true pair, they then journey to find the people they’re meant to be with before it’s too late. 

From its borrowed Broadway casting (present are Kristin Chenoweth and Ariana DeBose) down to its perfectly choreographed performances, Schmigadoon! is a clear ode to musical theater, and its unabashed appreciation for the genre is truly hard to resist. Even the most musically averse will find something to love in the show. If the theatrics and eye-popping visuals don’t do it for you, then stay for the breezy six-episode run, the great lead chemistry, and the wry, exacting humor. 

Most media that plays on our hyper-usage of technology has a decidedly scary bent: think “screen-life” thrillers like Unfriended, Host, and Searching. But Still Up — which is not strictly a screen-life show, but relies heavily on FaceTime as a storytelling device — uses similar means for a romantic comedy end. Danny (Craig Roberts) and Lisa (Antonia Thomas) are friends with the same problem: they can’t sleep. For that reason, the show — the first three episodes watched for review, at least — takes place entirely at night. If that wasn’t enough of a constraint, Danny is also agoraphobic, so all of his scenes are set in his apartment (hence why the duo communicate through their phones).

It’s to Still Up’s credit that these limits on its setting don’t give us a sense of claustrophobia. The performances gel the conceits together, and the inventive writing makes something technically constrained feel paradoxically expansive by recognizing that strange spike of clarity and introspective energy that comes when the world gets quiet. Though some of its comedy skews a little too kooky in places, initial romantic rumblings build assuredly to suggest that one nocturnal revelation waiting to be had is that these two night owls might actually be each other’s soulmates hiding in plain sight.

Starring a knock-out cast of comediennes that include Carol Burnett, Laura Dern, Allison Janney, and Wiig, Palm Royale is a visual treat filled with a handful of memorable performances. But as funny as these women and as vibrant as these costumes are, the series never seems truly believable and lived in. It instead feels like a neverending comedy sketch—a parody of a melodrama, to be exact. Despite its tender moments, it’s difficult to feel sympathetic for characters who are played for laughs and laughs only. Look, I love Wiig as much as the next person who grew up watching seasons 31-37 of SNL, but the loudness of her performance can’t hide the fact that she can’t find her character’s core, which ultimately weakens the act. Wiig is usually excellent in dramatic roles, so this one comes as a surprise.

In Lumon, a company that resembles the increasingly intrusive oligarchs of Big Tech, Mark (Adam Scott) and his colleagues undergo a procedure that allows them to separate their work memories from their non-work memories. It sounds like a dream: the perfect work-life balance. But things get complicated when one colleague mysteriously leaves and is replaced by confused new hire, Helly (Britt Lower). Mark and Helly dig into shocking truths about what they really do, and for whom.

Just like the endless halls of Lumon, Severance is filled with twists and turns, many of which are impossible to see coming. Slow, smart, and sneaked with a dystopian eerieness that doesn’t feel all that far off, Severance is sure to leave you wary of corporate slavishness, if you aren’t already.

After Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul, showrunner Vince Gilligan surprised us with this alien sci-fi series. It isn’t just because of the genre. Rather than the usual alien invasion, or even the post-apocalyptic dystopia we’ve previously seen, Pluribus instead has an alien-sent virus transforming the rest of the world into a pacifist hivemind, with immune protagonist Carol Sturka the only one left to object to it. Some aspects directly mirror today’s hot button issues such as COVID, AI, and the internet’s echo chambers, but the premise strips down these issues to the essence, creating a playground where Carol reckons with the fate of the world in her hands. Pluribus builds upon sci-fi fundamentals to capture the conflict between individual freedom and the common good.

What if the 1960s space race never ended? For All Mankind imagines such a world; here, Russia’s cosmonauts arrive on the moon first, the galaxy holds resources beyond belief, and global wars have expanded in stakes and scale. More than just the final frontier, outer space is now the focal point of warring nations hungry to capitalize and claim new assets. 

For All Mankind’s out-of-this-world premise alone make it a thrilling watch, but you’ll be glad to know that the show also feels intimate and affecting thanks to its fully fleshed-out characters. If you’re looking for an epic but grounded story to lose yourself in, this is it. 

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.

With its first episode, The Changeling might feel less scary and more romantic and historical than how a horror fantasy would seem like. The series shifts in and out of flashbacks, sometimes even having a flashback within a flashback, with dreamlike sequences that makes it take a while to figure out when and where the story is taking place. This causes the series to have some unusual pacing that might turn off viewers wanting a quick scare. But there’s a certain mystery to it, a certain anxiety captured as Apollo and Emmy disobey the Brazilian witch, as it recalls those negligent parents in familiar fantastic fairy tales. And as the series makes their flashbacks, there’s a certain fear that Apollo and Emmy might redo the same mistakes their immigrant parents have done before them. It makes for an intriguing take on the novel by Victor LaValle, one that captures a realistic fear that isn’t easy to depict.

Just when you think you’ve heard enough origin stories for a lifetime, in comes Me with probably the most poignant one yet: 12-year-old Ben, overcome with so much anxiety and yearning to be someplace else, transformers into a different person. Though Me is outwardly a sci-fi show, and the main plot is fueled with mystery and fantasy, it’s also an emotionally attuned, self-aware coming-of-age story that follows Ben through his ups and downs. Almost overnight, he gains a new sister, a new school, a new set of classmates to figure out, and unlike most superhero narratives, these are just as confounding and important to Ben as his powers. There is no double life, it’s all just him. But the best thing about Me is that despite its G rating, it’s just as enjoyable for adults as it is for kids. It’s not cheesy or corny, but gentle and comforting, and you learn lots about yourself in the process.

A lot goes on in Constellation, Apple TV+’s latest addition to its growing collection of sci-fi shows. It begins as a survival space thriller, then it evolves into a conspiracy mystery with hints of supernatural horror, all while being a family drama centered on the elusive mother-daughter bond. For all that hoopla, however, Constellation moves at a very languid place. It can also get very confusing very fast as it attempts to be all the abovementioned things and juggle multiple possibilities (relating to quantum physics, mind you) at the same time. To quote series creator Peter Harness’ other credited show, Doctor Who, it’s all very wibbly wobbly timey wimey. If you’re one to dive into a sci-fi story’s heady and complex world, however, then Constellation comes highly recommended.

There are two timelines in Monarch, one set in a post-war world where trio Bill (Anders Holm), Shaw (Wyatt Russell), and Keiko (Mari Yamamoto) look for monsters, and another set in 2015, where trio Cate, Kentaro (Ren Watabe), and May (Kiersey Clemons) look for Cate and Kentaro’s missing father. Both timelines are action-packed and mystery-filled, eventually intertwining in a surprising but thrilling way. But for all that’s happening, Monarch is weirdly missing the monsters. Godzilla, along with other creatures old and new, rarely appear, though when they do, they make sure to put on a spectacle you can’t look away from. The show could use a lot more of these monsters, though there’s much to like in the human cast too—especially in Shaw, whose present self is played by Russell’s father, the iconic Kurt Russell. The decision to cast them in this role is more than inspired, it’s downright entertaining. Not only do they look alike, but they have the same mannerisms and charismatic flairs, though both actors make sure to inflect the character with their own specific charms. Seeing their interpretation of Shaw is reason enough to watch this series, but everything else is pretty epic too.

With the success of Korean dramas in international streaming services, it made sense for Apple TV+ to jump into the Hallyu wave, especially when they started to introduce their service to the Korean market. Dr. Brain was Apple TV’s first foray into the genre, and while the premise sounds something akin to modern day Frankenstein, the freaky sci-fi thriller grounds itself with its mystery, that of the disappearance of the doctor’s son, and the humanity slowly blooming in Sewon Koh’s normally stoic demeanor. It’s a drama that’s sometimes uneven, one that might be divisive to some viewers as the doctor breaks ethics for his experiments, but Dr. Brain is never boring, delving deep into a surprising drama behind the emotionless doctor.

If you’ve seen the original film by Monty Python member Terry Gilliam, then you might be disappointed by Taika Waititi’s 10-episode adaptation of the time-traveling romp. It’s less out there, catered as it is to young kids, and less tight too. A camera lingers for two seconds longer here, a reaction isn’t given 100% there—they’re small missteps, but they do add up to a mediocre whole. Other than that, the series is undeniably charming. It’s educational and entertaining in equal measure, and the hilarious banter between Lisa Kudrow’s Penelope and Tuck’s Kevin gives the show its edge. It’s naturally, almost unintentionally sweet—the more Penelope and the bandits push Kevin away, the more apparent their care for him is. The show’s quirky sense of humor recalls Waititi’s other shows, specifically Our Flag Means Death and What We Do in the Shadows, while also employing a more kid-friendly approach, a la Doctor Who. It has its faults, but it’s all good fun that might even inspire young kids to review their history lessons this summer.

What if the UK’s MI5 was run not by sleek secret agents, but rather, a bunch of second-rate, hand-me-down spies? Slow Horses gives us a taste of that as it centers on Slough House, a division of MI5 that serves as a detention center for their smart but hopelessly damaged goods.

In this six-part miniseries, the Slough House agents reluctantly exchange their humdrum duties for a big and unexpected case. Led by the eccentric Jackson Lamb (a very funny and effective Gary Oldman), they track a group of Right-wing terrorists and their hostage before it’s too late. With its brisk pace, endearingly bumbling characters, and deft balance of suspense and humor, Slow Horses might just be one of the finest thrillers out there.

In the multilingual Drops of God, French author Camille and Japanese sommelier Issei battle for a wine expert’s multi-billion-dollar inheritance. Camille may be the expert’s daughter, gifted with an incredible sense of smell and taste, but Issei is the so-called “spiritual son,” the protégé who filled in Camille’s shoes upon her abrupt departure from her father’s life. Whoever wins a series of wine-related tests gets to keep the expert’s estate and continue his legacy.

Based on the Japanese manga of the same, Drops of God is strangely but enjoyably competitive as it plunges you deep into the complex world of wine—through intense competitions, we get a closer look at the drink’s many layers, long history, and even its cultural connotations. This nice blend of knowledge and rivalry makes it a thrilling watch, but the show also has an unexpected but welcome family element to it that softens the edge a bit and gives it a sweet aftertaste. If you were ever looking for a smart but heartfelt show about wining and dining, this is it.

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.

Shining Girls is painful to watch. How could it not be, when it follows the serial and brutal murders of female victims? Even when the series is told through the lens of sole survivor Kirby (played by the excellent Elisabeth Moss), we witness the indelible effects of assault and trauma. Kirby’s sense of reality shifts; time is circular and memories are provisional. She’s an unreliable source in her own story. 

And yet Shining Girls is also necessary to watch. It’s one of those stories where pain is the point, and it brings you close enough to the scene of the crime that it feels wrong to pull away too soon–not until you pull through the ending. 

As always, Moss is unrelentingly intense as she takes us through the deepest corners of the victim she portrays, but a strong supporting cast also rounds off the performances. Jamie Bell is particularly haunting as the yet-to-be-discovered killer. 

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.

The first thing that hits you about Sugar is its style: this is a show tailor-made for fans of a bygone Hollywood era, an era dominated by film noir and dapper leading men like Humphrey Bogart, whom Sugar emulates throughout the series. The show inserts clips from old films and, even better, echoes their style through tasteful jumpcuts and fisheye lenses. It’s dripping with panache, and Farrell is undeniably cool as he narrates his investigation and inner demons. That said, Sugar is also a show that’s more style than substance. If you strip it off its snazzy clothes, you’re left with the barest bones of a mystery that is simply too cliched to stand on its own. If you’re looking to dive into a heady mystery with surprising twists and thrills, you’re better off watching something else. However, if you’re a true blue fan of vintage noir, the kind who still puts TCM on religiously and swears nothing new can compare to the old, then this is your show.

By now, it’s pretty clear that Apple TV+ follows a less-is-more philosophy when it comes to content. Sure, it doesn’t release a million new titles in a year like Netflix or Prime, but the few originals that it does put out are almost always good (and occasionally great), backed by an astounding budget and ambitious vision. Sunny is the latest addition to that category. The multi-genre show is a deceptively simple robo-buddy comedy that is engaging through and through. Yes, it’s futuristic—and fantastic in that regard—but it’s also funny, heartwarming, thrilling, and tragic. And it juggles all these effortlessly so that the other aspects of the show, such as the artful blend of tradition and tech, can shine through.

Dave Franco stars in this murder mystery as an obnoxious pop star who gets murdered during a 15-year high-school reunion afterparty. An unlikely detective (played by Tiffany Haddish) is dispatched to find out who among the party attendants committed the crime.

Featuring beloved comedians old and new, the series brings to the forefront a myriad of gimmicks and shticks that promises to keep you both entertained and at the edge of your seat. If you’re looking for a quick, lighthearted, no-brainer mystery, this will do the job perfectly.

At just six episodes, Defending Jacob can feel surprisingly long. The dramatic pauses are drawn out and the dialogues tend to get melodramatic. But the core mystery remains compelling, as do the trio of performances that lead it. Chris Evans, Michelle Dockery, and Jaden Martell are devastating to watch as they descend into uncertainty and chaos—Martell in particular, though the youngest, brings more heart to the table. Is he the psychopath everyone claims him to be, or is he just a boy struggling to come of age? It can stand to cut a few scenes and plot lines, but these three actors, the questions they raise about trust and loyalty, and the whodunnit mystery ultimately make it a gripping series.

Based on true events, Black Bird follows James Keene (Taron Egerton), a narcotics dealer sentenced to ten years in jail. He makes a deal with the authorities to reduce his sentence, but in return, James has to befriend their deadliest convict—a child murderer played by the excellently terrifying Paul Walter Hauser—and extract a confession out of him before it’s too late.

If you’re a fan of gripping crime thrillers, anti-heroes, star-studded shows, and watching British actors do a perfect American accent, then Black Bird is right up your alley. The miniseries is also an excellent showcase of topnotch performances; Egerton and Hauser bring the house down in their excellently staged two-handers, Greg Kinnear is reliably sturdy as the determined detective, and Ray Liotta in one of his final roles is devastating as an ailing father. 

Bad Sisters is an Irish miniseries that is part romance, part murder mystery, and all-around cheeky, bold fun. It follows the Garveys, five sisters who’ve developed a tight bond after the untimely death of their parents. They protect each other mainly from their brother-in-law John Paul, whose antics have become increasingly threatening and toxic over the years.

The series is very much in the vein of Big Little Lies, Dead to Me, and Good Girls, where women who’ve kept up with so much for so long finally let loose in a fit of violent rampage. But Bad Sisters narrowly escapes cliches thanks to a winning ensemble and deft handling of its weighty subject matter.

With the various police procedurals available online, it can feel like an oversaturated genre, at best. At worst, with the struggles the world has to do with regards to the justice system, police procedurals can glorify the institution. Criminal Record examines this, but it doesn’t give the easy answers other shows have when discussing the systemic failure of the police, especially when it comes to race, age, and sex. Peter Capaldi stands in as the old guard, though his skin-crawling presence keeps Dan Hegarty’s real intentions an enigma until the very end. However, it’s Cush Jumbo as the empathetic June Lenker that drives the show, with her persistence meeting Hegarty’s every move, and her frustrations mirroring the real rage the world feels with regards to past injustices. The way the two clash creates a novel rookie-veteran dynamic that makes Criminal Record so striking.

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.

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.

Everyone grows up learning about the theatric death of President Lincoln—while enjoying a play with his wife, the actor and Confederate soldier John Wilkes Booth shoots him straight in the head, dashes to the stage, and escapes into the wilderness before eventually getting caught. But most people tend to gloss over that last part when, in fact, Booth’s capture was a wild ride that involved the rabid participation of thousands of troops and civilians. Ironically, it united a nation that was still grappling with the loss brought by war. Through seven episodes, Manhunt zooms in on that moment in American history and closely follows the cat-and-mouse chase between Booth and Secretary of War Edward Stanton. It’s a powerfully performed piece, as one would expect from Emmy-winning actor Menzies, but the surrounding characters are just as colorful and impassioned. They capably bring life to a near-forgotten piece of history and make it feel just as urgent and important as the day it happened.

You’d think a caper set in Florida starring Vince Vaughn would be wild, but Bad Monkey is surprisingly chill. The stakes are low, the mystery is revealed quite early, and everyone moves at a languid pace that feels right for the summer season. And yet it’s still fun to watch. It has the right amount of intrigue and it looks enviably nice. Half the time you’ll just be wishing you too could sit back and down a beer while watching the warm Florida waves rock by. Admittedly, the plot lines don’t always mesh and Vaughn could be more dynamic in his performance, but overall, this makes for a perfectly fine summer watch.

Given its explicitly female-centered premise, you’d think Women in Blue would do a better job at exploring gender dynamics in the workforce and bucking societal expectations in general. But it bafflingly doesn’t. The lead characters are underwritten and their problems are draped with a telenovela flair that distracts, at times, from the gravity of the situation. The core mystery that drives the entire series feels similarly underbaked, even though it is based on true events. But that said, Women in Blue has its moments. The show shines the most when it gives its female leads enough space and time to actually grapple with their reality and the realizations they’ve made since joining the force. I also wished it had them work on different cases, not just the one, but maybe that’s something another season could address.

Considering the legacy of its title subject, the Mr. Scorsese limited series should frankly be longer than five episodes. That’s our only complaint about the show, really. This five-part documentary does a wonderful job balancing between talking about the auteur’s life and work and the way both affected each other. Fans may already know about his Italian-American neighborhood influencing his interest in the gangster drama, or his asthma that kept him going to the air-conditioned cinema. Director Rebecca Miller simply arranges what we know into a cohesive, insightful narrative, and finds all the reasons why there could never be another Scorsese.

There are only 20 seats in Formula 1 each year, meaning that drivers are not only racing to win but to be kept on the roster. With the big stars, Ferrari and Mercedes, habitually shrouded in secrecy, Formula 1: Drive to Survive focuses more on the back of the grid. Lewis Hamilton, the five-time world champion, is rarely seen, for example, giving more room for other stories to unfold, including that of Günther Steiner, the Italian team principal of the Haas Formula One Team. That is not to say there are no big reveals. Even if you think Formula 1 is a decadent, testosterone-driven sports for rich Europeans, Drive to Survive might be welcome crash course into what makes this sport so appealing for many and might also have the potential to change your mind. If not, it is still a very well-made, slick, and engaging docuseries that will have enthusiasts and newcomers thoroughly entertained.

Apple TV+’s stunning Omnivore is sleek and stylish enough to make it stand out from the usual food and travel shows you might find on TV. There are expertly shot scenes from around the world, exclusive interviews, and maybe best of all, a well-written script that’s just as colorful and delectable as the dishes onscreen. Each episode, which hones in on a specific ingredient like corn or chili, has a tight runtime at just 30 minutes, making it extremely bingeable (though ideally not on an empty stomach). That said, the show might be too polished for viewers who are expecting the gritty and immersive approach of a chef like Anthony Bourdain. Omnivore, for all its explorative language, is suspiciously idyllic at times, all too eager to paint the global food industry as a harmonious process as opposed to an enterprise that is involved in global warming, animal poaching, and deforestation, among others. Every industry has a dark side, and I just wished the show appreciated the nuance in that. Still, it’s an engaging watch with glowing moments.

Directed by Morgan Neville (20 Feet From Stardom, Won’t You Be My Neighbor), Steve! is an appropriately fun and artistic documentary capturing its subject matter’s fun and artistic spirit. It’s a delight to see Martin’s other personas, such as his early magician self, his philosophy major self, and his quietly humorous cartoonist self. We’re so used to seeing his fast-paced zaniness that these parts of the documentary are almost shocking to see. But maybe the most illuminating role Martin plays is that of his current self. In equal measure, he cracks jokes and offers wise words about aging which, at 75, he takes in enviously great stride.

True crime documentaries have a way of stretching out a thin story for views. For instance, what could have been an hour-long film is tediously and often unnecessarily extended into five or so episodes. Thankfully, that’s not the case in Hollywood Con Queen. Three hours is a reasonable length to cover Harvey Tahilramani’s wild crimes and even wilder stories. His biggest offense thus far is pretending to be bigshot Hollywood executives (among them famed producer Amy Pascal and Universal chairman Donna Langley), then luring freelancers into flying all the way to Indonesia to deposit sums of money to his account. If he’s not manipulating them, he’s demanding them to commit sexual acts, effectively abusing them. Despite that, Tahilramani is convinced that he is somehow the victim of all this scheming, and it’s his first-hand account, along with the victims’ harrowing testimonies, reporter Scott Johnson’s excellent reporting, and private detective Nicoletta Kotsianas’s staunch investigation that make Hollywood Con Queen a compelling true-crime watch.

I’ve seen my fair share of true crime documentaries, and a major complaint I have is about how directors tend to overdramatize the story, so much so that it achieves the opposite effect for me. I feel desensitized and irate when the music swells to usher in yet another cliffhanger. So it’s refreshing to see almost none of that in Cowboy Cartel, which is well-edited and gripping enough to keep you hooked till its finale. Of course, the downside to stripping a crime story of sensationalism is that it can get boring in its straightforwardness. This happens more than a few times in Cowboy Cartel, and it doesn’t help that its main interviewee, FBI Agent Scott Lawson, recounts events in a sleepy and monotonous tone. Still, it’s tightly edited, well-researched, and intriguing case. The documentary itself may not always match its energy, but when it does, it’s a show that’s very hard to put down.

Right off the bat, Number One on the Call Sheet is impressive because of the sheer number of stars it has onscreen. Eddie Murphy, Whoopi Goldberg, Morgan Freeman, Denzel Washington, Will Smith, Viola Davis, and so much more sit down for a candid interview about who their idols were, what their journeys were like as Black artists, and what they think of the future generation of actors (here represented by the likes of Daniel Kaluuya, Tessa Thompson, and Jurnee Smollett). It’s a joyful celebration of success as well as a sobering reminder of a painful, racist past. Ocassionally, director Reginald Hudlin spends too long on the careers of certain actors and loses sight of the documentary’s purpose—is this a tribute to Black actors or a tabloid celebrity biography? But, ultimately, it gets back on its feet and leaves you with a stirring and hopeful message about the impact and potential of Black Hollywood.

Imagine a travel show hosted by someone with zero interest in travel. It can go either of two ways: you can hate the guy for his ignorance or love him for trying anyway. Thankfully, veteran comedian Eugene Levy falls in the latter category in the aptly titled series The Reluctant Traveler with Eugene Levy. Here, the unadventurous 75-year-old gets out of his comfort zone and finally explores a world that, according to him, he’s spent his entire life avoiding. Levy may not be a cultural connoisseur, but he’s a pleasant presence with nice comedic timing, warm people skills, and a big sense of gratitude, so really, what’s not to like? 

Both poetic and epic in scale, Pachinko (adapted from the bestselling novel of the same name) tells the story of a family spanning four generations, three nations, and one dream: to ensure a better life for their children, and their children, and so on. Because the story is rooted both in the unique experience of immigrant life and in the universal values of family life, it can seem painfully striking and relatable all at once.

Despite the many places and eras it traverses, Pachinko also feels less nostalgic and more real-time, deeply immersed in whatever setting it’s in, taking us breathlessly for the ride.

Sensitively directed by Kogonada (Columbus, After Yang) and movingly acted by veteran Youn Yuh-jung and breakout star Minha Kim, Pachinko is certainly one for the books: an arresting adaptation through and through.

Five Days at Memorial recalls the real and horrifying events that went on at a New Orleans hospital during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Over the course of five days, the caregivers in charge try their best to evacuate thousands of people from the building, but heavy floods, power outages, intense heat, and a sorry lack of planning result in some heartbreaking decisions about the fate of their patients.

The ongoing series is a gut-wrenching and at times excruciating watch, adeptly directed by John Ridley (American Crime) and absorbingly moored by a cast that includes Vera Farmiga (Conjuring)—by now an expert at exhibiting pure horror—and Cherry Jones (Succession).

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.

The show’s premise is plain, but it’s also endlessly, edge-of-your-seat gripping. It’s steady and unhurried but never boring, and each episode, which represents an hour on the seven-hour flight, gives you a sliver of hope for the passengers, especially since they have pro-negotiator Sam Nelson (Idris Elba) on their side. Or do they? The show has fun playing with Sam as the anti-hero, but his heart is too big and golden to achieve that complexity. It also doesn’t bother to paint the hijackers as anything other than terrorists (at least not in the first few episodes screened for review). Instead, the show narrowly chases that mid-flight suspense, and it works. It successfully builds up to it with small but revealing moments. 

At the back of all the hubbub, there is also a running joke about what happens when you get stuck with the worst people you know. The passengers are characters you may be familiar with—the family with loud babies, the nosy seatmate forcing a chat, the lowkey racist eyeing everyone who doesn’t look like him—and it gets doubly entertaining to see them collaborate when they otherwise won’t.

Swagger could’ve easily been a generic sports drama about an ambitious prodigy who, against all odds and through sheer determination, makes it to the top. It is that, but it’s also so much more. Swagger offers biting commentary on race and economic realities, as well as heart-warming and relatable stories about family, love, and coming of age. It’s finely acted, with everyone from the kids and their parents to the coaches offering lived-in and realistic performances. The show is most reminiscent of the 2000 film Love & Basketball, which would make sense since the latter is directed by Swagger director Reggie Bythewood’s spouse, Gina Prince-Bythewood. Swagger and Love & Basketball have unique differences, of course, but both deeply understand and powerfully speak to the Black experience.

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.

While the show won’t teach you chemistry (or at least not enough for non-chemists to understand certain dialogue), Lessons in Chemistry is an enjoyable adaptation of the bestselling novel. Taking what makes the novel great, the period mini-series, like many period shows, highlights the historical inequality, but does so in a way that’s organic. Protagonist Elizabeth Zott, like Brie Larson, is just simply ahead of her time, while misogyny misinterprets her words and actions. The series also expands on other characters, but still manages to keep a steady pace, through clever rearrangement and reinterpretation of the novel’s plot points. Adding in the lovely costumes, and a stronger love story to start, Lessons in Chemistry might be Apple TV+’s answer to The Queen’s Gambit, albeit set a decade earlier.

With the successful release of Manhunt and Masters of the Air in the last couple of months, it looks like Franklin is set to be Apple TV+’s first miss in the historical drama department. Though the lead is based on a Founding Father and played by a revered actor, the series lacks the spark that elevates mere history lessons into riveting stories. Douglas seems bored, the script feels lackluster, and the pace is way too slow to compete with other more compelling period dramas. It’s a baffling miss, considering Douglas has in the past dazzled as Liberace, and director Tim Van Patten has similarly won acclaim for a string of HBO shows. But maybe it’s a sign of a burgeoning glut. Given Franklin’s rushed feel, perhaps Apple TV+ should take it slow and go back to its quality over quantity philosophy.

For those familiar with the original book series, you’ll already know what kind of show to expect. The Apple+ cartoon is centered on the two titular amphibians going through universal adventures that makes or breaks your day. From finding the willpower to resist eating delicious cookies, to hoping a friend would contact you when you’re lonely, each episode keeps a gentle sort of humor, poking lighthearted fun at the differences between the emotional Toad and more sensible Frog. With each episode’s twenty minute runtime, and two adventures per episode, Frog and Toad is a sweet, nostalgic series that’s easy to breeze through for millennial parents and their kids.