100 Best British TV Shows to Watch Right Now

Stath Lets Flats is so incredibly quotable that watching just its first crop of episodes will likely give you a whole new vocabulary. Even after spending three full seasons with the titular Greek Cypriot real estate agent (played, as no one else could, by series creator Jamie Demetriou) and his sister Sophie (Natasia Demetriou), it still feels like the show is inventing new ways to nonsensically butcher the English language. Maintaining total unpredictability and never letting the gags get stale is no easy feat, but Stath Lets Flats never even gets close to that, remaining utterly original — and, more importantly, hilarious — from its slapstick-heavy opener all the way through the emotional rollercoaster that is the show’s three-season-strong run. Though its existence feels criminally short, the blessing of this being unlike any other sitcom (old and new) means it has infinite rewatch potential — putting it up there with the very best of TV comedy, period. Sold!

Why unlikely? Because, despite all the romance, its plot is fully based on a sexual transmitted infection. Hopelessly romantic twenty-something Dylan (Johnny Flynn) suddenly discovers he has chlamydia and is advised to contact all his (read: many) sexual encounters. Pair this plot summary with the fact that the show was originally called “Scrotal Recall” when it aired on British TV and you can be forgiven for looking the other way.

Underneath its awkward previous moniker, Lovesick is actually very funny, charming, and heavily romantic. Dylan is chaperoned by Luke (Daniel Ings, who you may know from Sex Education and The Crown), a seemingly confident but insecure business-school type, and Evie, Dylan’s smart and cynical best friend, played by Antonia Thomas from Misfits. It soon becomes apparent that Evie and Dylan could be much more than just friends if only their timelines were to align.

Lovesick is a charming little series that homes in on the heart-breaking romance of failed relationships. Something you can easily find yourself watching many episodes in one take.

With plenty of classics being remade, many have cried about Hollywood playing it safe, not matching up to the source material, and at worst, being unoriginal. After 40 years, the groundbreaking 1980 Shogun miniseries now has a new adaptation, but unlike its fellow remakes, this new series goes beyond expectations to deliver a mesmerizing, epic political drama that we’ve been hoping for. The 2024 remake still maintains plenty of the jawdropping firsts that shocked America then, but it also decentralized its perspective, expanding past the English outsider Blackthorne, and prioritizing the perspective of its Japanese characters, particularly Lord Yoshii Toranaga and Lady Toda Mariko. Hulu’s Shogun may be another remake, but their takes provides something new, with its spectacular production and its epic storytelling.

If you’re looking for a funny yet original sitcom, look no further than Derry Girls. 

It takes place in 1990s Northern Ireland where civil unrest reigns. News of bombings is regular. This is a cause for concern for a lot of people, but for one group of teenage girls life continues as usual. Making fun of the first boy at their all girls school and being embarrassed by crushes are unshakable priorities. 

Derry Girls might have been a good show with just the 90s nostalgia and the political undertone, but the sharp and hilarious writing elevate it to greatness. It is truly one of the best sitcoms ever made. If you liked The End of the F***ing World, you will enjoy Derry Girls. They differ in plot but they both carry similar elements of dark and dry humour. 

Watch out for Sister Michael, she is hilarious. 

Ok, two words: Idris Elba. This 11-time Emmy-nominated detective series is his show. He leads the action as DCI John Luther, a Serious Crime Unit detective, who is as smart as he is self-destructive. A committed policeman but frequently in over his head and prone to be consumed by the darkness of the criminals he pursues. And, finally, a main role where Elba can legitimately use his thick East London accent, innit.

Creator and writer Neil Cross (Doctor Who) has said to be inspired by Sherlock Holmes and Columbo. While this is a pretty apt description of Luther’s ambivalence, this detective delves into even darker territory than his cultural predecessors. In addition to Elba, Ruth Wilson is one of many amazing actors that grace the show, playing the seductive and completely psycho character Alice. Luther will routinely have you on the edge of your seat screaming “No, why did you do that?”, rooting for the DCI even when he’s taking all the wrong turns. This gritty BBC drama is British television at its nail-biting best.

While the BBC is famous for making some great understated drama series about the dark side of detective work (Luther, Line of Duty, Broadchurch), it has raised the bar with Happy Valley. It’s so good, it successfully breathes new life into the middle-aged but strong-willed small-town police officer trope, taking it to some uncomfortable and difficult places with exceptional writing.

Said small-town police officer is Catherine Cawood from West Yorkshire, impressively portrayed by Sarah Lancashire. Cawood has a hard time coming to terms with the release of a man from prison, who she is connected to in a fateful way and whose comeback coincides with a kidnapping attempt by a local drug kingpin. These events reveal the criminal underbelly of a seemingly quaint small town. Hidden behind its ironic title, Happy Valley will keep you on your toes with understated suspense, dry humor, and a quietly devastating storyline.

Olivia Colman and Hugh Laurie (House) star in this espionage mini-series based on a John le Carré novel.

A quick mini-series that spans six episodes, it’s about a former soldier (Tom Hiddleston) who, while working as a night manager for a hotel in Cairo, Egypt, ends up getting hold of very sensitive information. He is then recruited by an intelligence officer (Olivia Colman) to bring down a corrupt businessman (Hugh Laurie.)

A highly-acclaimed TV show not to be missed by lovers of spy stories, John Le Carré films (A Most Wanted Man, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy), or just anyone who appreciates excellent acting.

This British comedy is about Lady Parts, an all-female, all-Muslim Punk band. Their latest member is Amina, a Ph.D student who is a great guitar player but has a form of stage fright that gives her bursts of diarrhea and vomiting.

To add to this serious obstacle, Amina is also not very “punk”. The reason she joins Lady Parts is to score a blind date with the brother of one of the band members – in hopes of marrying him.

It’s a fun, unapologetic show that, like the Hulu hit Ramy, digs up the humour in the complexities of being young and Muslim in today’s world.

It’s a near-impossible feat to turn something as tragic and devastating as the Chernobyl disaster into a gripping and enlightening tale, but the HBO miniseries does just that. Through insightful storytelling, affecting performances, and sharp dialogue, Chernobyl the show stuns viewers into awareness and, at its best, galvanizes them into action.

It’s a well-crafted five-hour series that does just enough in the way of humanizing a distorted reality, bringing to light the all-too-relevant consequences of power plays and placing the interests of the political elite and national image over real, human lives.

It’s amazing how shows fueled only by fast talk can feel as gripping as any thriller out there. The Diplomat is cerebral and heavy on geopolitical jargon, but somehow, it manages to feel genuinely exciting, each new episode impossible to not play next. Thanks is due in large part to Keri Russell who, fresh out of her incredible stint in The Americans, returns here as messy and intense and endearing as ever. On the one hand, The Diplomat is about the delicacy of diplomacy, about how every decision made at this level has ripples of consequences throughout the globe. But it’s also, amusingly, a marriage story. Russell plays a woman who has long been defined by her more renowned if egotistical husband, played perfectly by Rufus Sewell. They have a complex relationship that is as much a career partnership as it is a romantic one, and part of the show’s charm is blending all these story arcs seamlessly. Fans of West Wing, Veep, and Homeland will find much to like in this series, especially because of its informative takes and engaging performances.

As a mystery-driven crime drama, Mare of Easttown treads pretty familiar territory without necessarily digging too deeply into the sociopolitical context it seems to hint at throughout its seven-episode run. But as the miniseries’ focus shifts from the usual procedural elements to more personal drama among the townspeople of Easttown and certain past events they haven’t moved on from, the series gets to evolve as well. The details of who was responsible for the inciting crime are ultimately less important than the conditions in the town’s history that led to the crime in the first place, whether by consequence or by fate. Some reveals here may come off as anticlimactic to some, but the series ultimately has more on its mind that’s definitely worth paying attention to.

Each episode of the medical show The Pitt follows an ER team over the course of an hour. There are no time jumps or montages, this is real-time for them. Countless patients come and go, their injuries ranging from terrifying to deadly, and whether they live or die depends on how fast the team responds. Leading everyone is Dr. Robby Rabinavitch (Noah Wyle), who is himself recovering from the trauma of losing a colleague during the COVID pandemic. However, unlike Grey’s Anatomy, the drama of the characters in The Pitt takes a backseat to the patients’ issues. That’s not to say we don’t get to know the characters well, just that the writers have very smartly and subtly found a way to integrate who they are into what they do. Much like the medical staff who front it, The Pitt is a highly efficient show. We experience a roller coaster of emotions and get what feels like a lifetime’s worth of medical exposure in a span of an hour. It’s intense, chaotic, disturbing, and at times even triggering. But it also feels essential to watch. It’s a welcome reminder of our mortality and the humanity needed to keep it at bay.

Pressured by the feeling that everyone is having sex except him, Otis (Asa Butterfield), like most teenagers, is very uncomfortable with sex, masturbation, and intimacy in general. In addition to the standard-issue teenage awkwardness, to make things worse, he grows up in a sex-positive household under the watchful eyes of his mother Jean, played by Gillian Anderson, who is a sex therapist. Obviously, the subject is omnipresent as are erotic art, oversized dildos, and coitus-craving couples all over the house. The twist comes when he transforms his tribulations into a business model by teaming up with bad girl Maeve Wiley (Emma Mackey) to counsel his teenage peers on sexual issues of all kinds. As you can imagine, uninitiated teenagers have a lot to offer in that department. Apart from its raunchy premise and explicit images, this is a hilarious, diverse, and warm teen comedy thanks, in particular, to the writing of playwright Laurie Nunn. Lauded by critics for its honesty, this future comedy classic will surely teach you a thing or two about sexuality yourself.

Arabella is a Twitter-famous writer from London who has one night to submit a draft of her second book. She gives herself an hour’s break that night to go out for a drink with a close friend. When she gets back, she realizes that far more than one hour had passed, that she had blacked out, and that she had bruises all over her body. Like the excellent Chewing Gum, the BBC/HBO miniseries I May Destroy You is a Michaela Coel one-woman show: she is the showrunner, the writer, co-director, and leading actress. And whatever Coel touches, she makes it personal and without compromises. I May Destroy you is based on her experience of being sexually assaulted while making Chewing Gum. To make sure she told this story right, she turned down a $1 million deal from Netflix over creative ownership. It is not only dizzyingly told and brave, but also original and funny. A timely drama if there ever was one!

In the dark comedy This Is Going to Hurt, Ben Whishaw stars as junior doctor Adam, who’s barely keeping it together in the understaffed and under-equipped ob-gyn ward of Britain’s NHS hospital. We see, often in sad and graphic detail, what goes on in a public hospital and the heavy toll this takes on both the patients’ and medical staff’s personal lives. It’s hard to look away, especially when Adam addresses us in the first person.

Even more upsetting? The miniseries is based on a memoir. Former medical trainee Adam Kay wrote a best-selling book detailing his horrific time at the NHS, and now he serves as executive producer and writer of the series.

Industry has all the markings of an HBO show: an abundance of sex, drugs, alcohol, and sure enough, an inextinguishable affinity for the F word. Like Succession, The Sopranos, and even Euphoria before it, it revels in its freedom to explore the nitty-grittiest parts of its subject matter and put its gruesome findings on full display. But instead of capitalism, organized crime, or teenhood, Industry incisively takes on hustle culture.

Through the eyes of four new hires at a premier investment bank in London, we see the dangerous means people put themselves through in order to achieve some semblance of respect, recognition, or at the very least stability. Bullying is rampant, hazing is normalized, competition is encouraged, and blind loyalty is rewarded. The characters are so flawed and damaged, you’ll often find yourself rooting for their demise. But you’ll also be glued to their arcs and storylines. Will they break the cycle of abuse or continue it? Can they actually change the system from within or does that remain a utopian dream? These questions are hardly charming, but Industry has a way of making them engaging, exciting even. It fully inhabits the meanness you can and should only enjoy behind the safety of a TV screen.

When Elle Fanning and Nicholas Hoult play power-hungry monarchs, what else more is there to say? The actors are very much in their element here, having already perfected similar roles in many films prior (one of them being The Favourite, which was co-written by The Great’s creator). They are the picture of elegance and royalty, and we need no convincing that they can hold 18th-century court.

Which is why when The Great takes us into its true, crude depths, they transform from simply credible to incredible. Aided by a wonderfully offbeat cast and the one-two punch of a hilarious and raunchy script, Fanning and Hoult deliver splendidly.

To be sure, this satirical show is not always funny. Sometimes, it takes dark turns to underscore the cruelty of the era, and other times it is genuinely moving in its drama. But this revisionist take on Russia’s Last Empress will always be a ball to watch, if only to see the artifice of aristocracy be stripped off and mocked with acerbic wit and might.

In BBC’s The Capture, a young soldier’s murder conviction is overturned thanks to submitted video evidence. But before he can enjoy his newfound freedom, a different video—this time live CCTV footage—places him at the scene of a new crime. The proof seems damning, but the deeper Detective Rachel Carey (Holliday Grainger) digs into the case, the more she learns about the wider conspiracy underneath it.

The Capture is everything you’d expect from a British police procedural: intelligent, lean, and sufficiently dramatic: no extra fat and unnecessary bits to be found here as action and mystery take center stage. And although TV may already be brimming with thrillers like it, what sets The Capture apart is its eerie insight into our so-called “post-truth” era. Instead of hardened criminals, our heroes go up against deepfakes, disinformation, and 24/7 surveillance. The series lets us know that the threat manipulated technology poses isn’t mere science fiction anymore—it’s evolved into an unfortunate and unbeatable reality.

Beginning as a small-town murder mystery but eventually taking the shape of a police procedural, a spy drama, and a sociopolitical thriller, Sherwood fully reinvigorates the crime genre for British TV. With every twist comes a reminder of how deeply alienated the people of this former mining village have become from themselves, each other, and the outside world. Because underneath all the investigation lies a boiling tension: the scars of a past conflict among trade unionists on strike, the “scabs” who crossed the picket line to continue working, and police forces further provoking all this friction. These internal divisions haunt everything in Sherwood, brought to life by a superb ensemble—David Morrissey, Robert Glenister, Lesley Manville, Adeel Akhtar, and more—who all carry the weight and shame of being left behind by the world around them.

All four episodes of Adolescence are shot in a singular, shocking take. The camera takes us along as Jamie Miller (an outstanding Owen Cooper) is arrested for suspected murder. In one episode we follow Jamie and his confused father (co-creator and writer Stephen Graham), in another we follow DI Luke Bascombe (Ashley Walters). And in one particularly head-spinning episode, we follow Jamie and his psychiatrist Briony (Erin Doherty) as they both try to get in each other’s heads. The series may seem like a straightforward murder mystery at first. Like Apple TV+’s Defending Jacob, it asks, did young Jamie do it? Will his parents believe him? Will we? But those questions are almost secondary to what the show really gets at. It takes on violent misogyny, a growing trend among the Andrew Tate-influenced youth. It takes on parental guilt, grief, and moral responsibility. It’s a hefty piece of work, but the naturalism of the script and the intimacy of the single-takes makes it feel terrifyingly close to home.

This BBC comedy by the creator of Veep is about the inner workings of the British government. Malcolm Tucker is the ruling party’s fixer — an angry, uncompromising bureaucrat who spends his days dealing with the failures of ministers.

The first season, which spans a quick three episodes, tells the story of a series of mishaps that strike the Ministry of Social Affairs. The minister announces a program that he wasn’t supposed to, and one thing leads to another and he has to name the program on live radio. “Sponge Avengers” is what comes out.

This is a genuinely funny TV show that since its release in 2005 has become a staple of workplace comedies.

This historical fantasy show is based on the best-selling novel The Saxon Stories, a story set during the Viking / Dane invasion of Britain.

Uhtred was a small boy when he was kidnapped and then raised by the Danes. When he unexpectedly gets caught up in the conflict, his half-Saxon half-Dane mix makes at the same time valuable and untrustworthy for both sides.

There has never been a better alternative to Game of Thrones. The great writing and great performances from a cast of newcomers inevitably induce the same sense of addiction.

An HBO show that’s almost too suspenseful to watch. It stars Riz Ahmed as a kid who steals his father’s cab to go to a party, only to later find himself tangled up in a crime. Everything leading up to his arrest, while not necessarily indicative of anything criminal, boasts cut-throat suspense. And that’s the magic of this show, it’s taking familiar crime story arcs, adding flawless acting and incredible writing, and perfecting the thrills. You’ll want to binge this show but, if your anything like me, your heart might not be able to take it.

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 early 2000s, amid the rapid rise of online piracy and the consequent fall of paid music, tech genius Daniel Ek would find Spotify, a revolutionary streaming platform that served as a middle ground between user accessibility and artist rights. But even now, at its peak, Spotify’s success seems mystifying. How did they get away with providing free music to all? 

Enter The Playlist—an impressive attempt at answering that very question. In this fictionalized account, key players in Spotify’s success are given their own episode-long arc, starting with the visionary himself, Ek (played by Edvin Endre), followed by the artist, the coder, and the industry insider, to name a few. By employing multiple perspectives, each with its own cinematic style (a particular favorite is that of the lawyer’s, the most experimental out of all the episodes), The Playlist manages to spin the technical and complicated story of Spotify’s origins into something fresh, dynamic, and addictive. Despite utilizing the Rashomon effect—risky but rewarding in this case—The Playlist rarely strays from its main point and, the result is a lean, well-rounded story that’s just as credible as it is heightened. 

A five-part mini-series where the camera rarely leaves Benedict Cumberbatch, enabling him to deliver possibly the best performance of his career. He plays Patrick Melrose, an autobiographical character from renown British writer Edward St Aubyn. A wealthy man who in the first scene of the show hears about his father’s death, Patrick tries to get his act together to go retrieve his father’s ashes. However, a nasty drug habit and a dark past stand in the way of sobriety. This is a fast-paced and impeccably-acted show with a solid supporting cast that includes Jennifer Jason Leigh and Hugo Weaving.

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.

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.

I’ve always thought that The Beatles’ songmaking process would be something close to magical. But this documentary proves that it’s anything but—creating music, like any artistic endeavor, is like pulling teeth. It’s painful and raw, but once done, it can also feel like the biggest relief in the world. And Get Back, which Jackson described as a “documentary about a documentary” shows us just how raw it gets. There are scenes of what we know went down (but even then it feels chilling), like the tense arguments between Paul, John, George, and Ringo. But there are also scenes of what we know less of, buried as they are beneath media spectacle and drama—that of genuine brotherhood and goofing around, of tender merrymaking and skilled music-making. It’s no secret that there was a ton of frustration behind The Beatles’ breakup, but this revealing documentary confirms there was a ton of (if not more) love involved too.

At just 30 minutes long, each episode of Episodes is a breezy watch, packed with a good balance of razor-sharp critique and relatable, easy-to-root-for relationships. It has a lot of fun skewering an industry obsessed with youth and profit, and Matt LeBlanc, who plays an oversized version of himself, is all too happy to make himself the target in most cases (coincidentally, the show brings to mind The Comeback, another Hollywood sendup starring a Friends star). But if the jokes and caricatures start to feel like too much, Episodes balances the fun with heart, mainly through Beverly and Sean, who go through ups and downs both as artists navigating the highly commercial world that is Hollywood, and as a couple tempted by good looks and superficial highs around them. Episodes is a real treat, especially if you’re looking for something right in between that dramedy sweet spot.

An amazing binge-worthy show that is a mix between a coming-of-age story, a romance, and a crime thriller. It tells the story of James, a 17-year-old who believes he is a psychopath (for some very convincing reasons). James decides he wants the victim of his first murder to be a new schoolmate, Alyssa.  He befriends her and keeps waiting for the perfect moment to kill Alyssa until he finds himself on a journey with her to escape her home. Somewhere near the middle of the show, and without you fully realizing it, it transforms from an original coming-of-age story or odd-boy-meets-odd-girl story to an intriguing view on adolescent insecurities and the role of parents into shaping them. It transforms from a mysterious, almost charming story to an interesting character study.  This is when the show will blow your mind.  It’s a fresh, smart, funny yet disturbing emotional thrill ride.

It starts off with a man failing at hanging himself from a fruit tree in a bleak-looking garden. Something this grotesque isn’t usually the stuff of sitcoms. This is unsurprising because Will Sharpe’s Flowers, produced for the British Channel 4, is not your usual sitcom. With a unique visual style, an extraordinary cast, and a dark, satirical script, it carves out a genre of its own. The always amazing Olivia Colman plays Deborah Flowers, the eccentric family’s matriarch, and a music teacher. The man trying to hang himself is her depressed and unfaithful husband Maurice (Julian Barratt), who is a children’s book author. They live in a ramshackle house with a Japanese butler, who barely speaks English, and their dysfunctional adult twins. Amidst all this glorious mess, Flowers is ultimately about mental illness and depression and is apt in pairing this disturbing reality with hilarity. Obviously, it is very dark. A bit too dark for comedy, and too mad for drama: truly original stuff.

Based on the DC Vertigo comic, Bodies is an intriguing crime thriller with a unique twist – one body, in four separate time periods, being solved simultaneously all at once. While the show is triggered by the same body, the mini-series feels like four separate shows at the same time, marrying the classic Victorian detective mystery, war-torn film noir, and modern day police procedural through post-apocalyptic science fiction. And the four separate detectives take the helm of their respective side of the case, as well as how they deal with the discrimination against them. With four excellent strands to the same mystery, Bodies is an exceptional adaptation that demonstrates how even though details change, some things still remain the same.

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.

Here’s something for all the goth lovers out there. With a title alluding to the cheap sensational fiction that was circulated in mid-Victorian Britain, this show is all about monsters, demons, and some of literature’s most iconic creatures haunting Victorian London, including Dorian Gray, Count Dracula, and Dr. Frankenstein. It utilizes all these characters to tell a captivating, macabre, and bloody story. Season 1 revolves around a series of gruesome deaths being investigated by the police, while Sir Malcolm Murray (played by one-time James Bond Timothy Dalton), a renowned explorer, and medium Vanessa Ives (played by the amazing Eva Green, who, incidentally, is an ex-Bond girl) know that there is much more at play here. Season 1 is entertaining, but Season 2 is even better, making the most of all the gothic, literary characters and, above all, the multitude of great actors playing them.

At first glance, those who enjoyed Hulu’s Ramy might be tempted to view this as the UK version of it. However, Man like Mobeen is a bit more street than Ramy and a lot more British. It’s also not so much about being a good Muslim. Mobeen (Guz Khan), Eight (Tez Ilyas), and Nate (Tolu Ogunmefun) are three mates from Birmingham. Two of them happen to be Muslim but it’s not a big deal. Except it is because of the way Western society sees them. Mobeen, the head of the group, takes care of his sister, Aks (Dúaa Karim), in the absence of his parents, trying to be a good guy, while also trying to escape his past as a drug dealer. In the first episode, a transaction to buy a laptop results in three SWAT teams closing in on them for no reason. (When Nate runs off, the police officer asks the others why he ran, and Mobeen says: “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because he’s black.”) Much of Man like Mobeen is laugh-out-loud comedy, but there’s a healthy dose of wokeness to be found here, too. Teenage knife crime (in the second season), the rise of right-wing sentiment, and the police’s history of violence towards immigrants are effortlessly woven into gags. Very funny!

Fans of sketch comedy, documentaries, and the always-hilarious duo of Bill Hader and Fred Armisen are in for a treat with Documentary Now!, a delightful miniseries that both satirizes and pays tribute to the non-fiction format. Each episode parodies a particular documentary and tone, bringing the comedians and their ever-revolving roster of guest stars to different eras, regions, costumes, accents, and more. 

With SNL veterans Hader and Armisen at the helm, this mockumentary is sure to amuse and impress even the most stoic among us, if not for the show’s humor, then for its sharp attention to detail and endlessly creative references.

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.

A black comedy with an aggressively bleak view of its own protagonist, this story of a celebrity’s life falling apart starts off funny and gradually becomes more and more difficult to watch. As the titular character scrambles to keep each part of her life afloat, her sense of self begins to fracture as well—emphasizing how our lives are defined by the responsibilities we have over others and ourselves. Billie Piper is extraordinary in the lead role, spiraling further down in ways that are truly haunting, and Leila Farzad balances her out perfectly as Suzie’s unapologetic, type A manager.

If the show’s first season is impressive enough with its unpredictable mix of styles and stern drama, season two—which only consists of three episodes—ratchets up the tension even more, playing out like an extended anxiety attack backstage at a reality show. Think Uncut Gems but with lots of dancing. For the boldness of its direction alone, I Hate Suzie doesn’t serve to just fly under the radar.

Messier than Heartstopper, but tamer than Skins, Everything Now has everything you’d expect from a British teen show. Sexuality, vices, and experimentation is what the series shares with other coming-of-age series, but at its heart is Mia Polanco as she tries to get back to her regular life after anorexia recovery. Cutting between her life now and her seven-month hospital stint, the show feels like a realistic depiction of a non-linear healing journey. It’s a show that makes sense to release right now, as the world’s teens try to get back to normal and try to reach standard teen touchstones.

Watching the trailers, and even the first ten minutes, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off just seems like a rehash of the prominent Edgar Wright film, especially since his cast reprise their roles in this new anime. However, when that episode ends, even the most ardent fans of both the film and the original comic book series would have no idea where this would go. It’s a fearless, daring approach, from the original creator Bryan Lee O’Malley, and it’s met with the wackiest, spectacular animation from Japanese animation studio Science SARU, remixing O’Malley’s designs with 8-bit, fighting video game action.

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.

Leo Tolstoy’s most famous book, on which this was based, defies summarization but this powerful, sumptuous, and head-spinning BBC production might have done just that.

In 1805 St. Petersburg, the illegitimate son of the richest man in Russia (played by Paul Dano) finds himself at the center of his country’s downfall as it faces another Napoleonic invasion. As it follows several interconnected characters, romance intertwines with war, tragedy, and greed.

Directed by Tom Harper (Peaky Blinders), this series has it all: great acting, beautiful locations, and breath-taking action. It also stays true to the philosophical nature of the written material, capturing the glamour, deceit, and insanity of its time – as well as the sweeping scope of the original Tolstoy tome. This is TV of cinematic proportions!

Two incredibly funny women are the stars of this authentic and heart-felt British comedy: writer, stand-up comedian, and main actress Aisling Bea, and the amazing Sharon Horgan (Catastrophe), who also co-produced the show. Irish teacher Áine (Bea) lives in London, yes, like Sharon Horgan’s character in Catastrophe, and works as an English-as-a-foreign-language teacher, but instead of getting knocked up by an American, she suffers a nervous breakdown and goes to rehab. When Áine checks out, she has to re-navigate all the aspects of real life that brought her to rehab in the first place. She does so with her sister Shona (Horgan) at her side. This is very clever and honest comedy about mental health, recovery, and loneliness, and about creating meaningful connections with the people around you. In true Bea and Horgan style, though, the humor is dark and will make you flinch and laugh at the same time. The chemistry between them is incredible!

In a very fun thriller format, this show is about three eccentric comic book fans who come across a graphic novel that has information on future world events, like epidemics.

Also looking for this novel are a couple of violent hitmen from an organization called “The Network”. The three youngsters find themselves up against a dark web of conspiracies and violence.

It’s plot-heavy, imaginative, and very enjoyable – everything you’d expect from a good thriller series.

Sixteen-year-old Rae Earl struggles with many things, among them: severe mental illness, a distorted body image, and less-than-ideal home life. In an attempt to redefine herself and pursue the teenage dream she’s always wanted, she reconnects with her estranged friend Chloe and the cool new people she’s met in Rae’s absence. As Rae gets to know this group more, she embarks on a coming-of-age journey that is, at turns, hilarious, awkward, and painfully real.

Set in ‘90s-era UK and scored to the unbeatable, headbanging tunes of English rock, My Mad Fat Diary is also an effective throwback of a show. It’s sure to be nostalgic to those who grew up in that era, while also doubling as a finely-aged portrait of a simpler time to the rest of us. Elevated, too, by diary doodles come to life and Rae’s unflinching witticisms, the series is a gem for anyone who has struggled to come to terms with their teenage self.

Vigil is a murder mystery/political thriller set in the depths of British waters, particularly in the nuclear-powered missile submarine HMS Vigil. When a navy officer dies and a fishing trawler disappears at the same time and place, Detective Chief Inspector Amy Silva (Suranne Jones) is sent in to investigate the case.

While Vigil mostly dove under the radar when it first came out last year, the BBC production is drawing in new audiences as it streams on Peacock. Watching it, it’s easy to forget that this isn’t a box-office production, because it looks and sounds every bit like one. It’s got a massive budget, an epic scale, a thrilling political premise, and talented actors across the board—what’s not to love?

Though it sets itself up as a mystery series, the tense and dramatically heavy Save Me avoids easy questions and focuses instead on how a crisis can affect different members of a community in equally painful ways. The show isn’t immune from random coincidences and contrivances, but even these little twists in the plot point force us to reevaluate how we think about these characters from moment to moment. This group of people that comes together when a teenage girl disappears isn’t made up of the most heroic individuals; in fact, it becomes difficult to root for some of the most prominent characters due to sins that they’re still trying to atone for.

This is what elevates Save Me above other mystery/thriller dramas. And giving depth and dignity to these working class people are a brilliant ensemble full of great performances: lead star and creator Lennie James, Suranne Jones, Stephen Graham, Lesley Manville, and season two addition Olive Gray—whose turn as a traumatized victim of human trafficking feels almost too real.

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 dispensable, 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.

This six-chapter British miniseries stars the ever-reliable Stellan Skarsgård as an erratic London police detective. He starts seeing visions or “manifests” of his recently murdered colleague and tries to solve her case even though he was excluded from it. River blends reality and illusion in a thoughtful and original police thriller.

This impressive body of work defies any classification: it’s a collection of five films that have been put together into a miniseries. Director Steve McQueen (12 Years a Slave) collected a timeless set of stories set from the ‘60s to ‘80s about London’s West Indian community and their struggle with rampant racism.

The first film, Mangrove, bears the name of the restaurant at the center of the story. As a sanctuary for the community, the restaurant quickly becomes the target of a racist police division that employs various tactics to disrupt  its popularity. The local chapter of the Black Panthers and its charismatic leader (played by Letitia Wright) get involved.

Mangrove and Lovers Rock, the next episode, were in the selection of the Cannes Film Festival that got canceled because of the pandemic.

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.

Led by fine-tuned performances from Ben Whishaw and Hugh Grant at the top of their game, this three-episode series dives headfirst into the sex scandal between Norman Scott and former Liberal Party leader Jeremy Thorpe with devastating wit. Neither character is treated as morally superior over the other, as both become consumed by the media frenzy surrounding the English justice system’s thirst for controversy. And Russell T Davies’ writing and Stephen Frears’ direction allow the show’s tone to pivot from brilliantly timed notes of humor to profoundly sad stretches of tragedy and drama. Given its short length, A Very English Scandal seems to be designed for binge-watching, but it should still reward patient and attentive viewing.

Imagine if the show Girls was Marvel-ized (or if you like, Derry Girls blended with Encanto): that’s kind of what this series is, but actually good.

It has all the trappings of a quarter-life-crisis sitcom—broke 25-year-olds with big dreams and little prospects living under one roof—while also being set in a world where everyday humans develop a superpower by the age of 18. The British series follows Jen, a late bloomer who has yet to find her power. Having had enough of sucky jobs and boyfriends, she sets out to discover her power in the hopes of finally knowing more about herself. It’s a bizarre premise with an authentic, endearing core that’s certainly worth checking out.

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.

We don’t really know our parents the same way they know about us. Black Cake recognizes this, and takes that discrepancy to create a compelling mystery, expanding on that hidden world with themes of generational trauma, intercultural dynamics, and lost heritage. With the show doing justice to the book’s moments, the mystery of Eleanor Bennett’s former life is already compelling in and of itself, but it’s made even more so as her children try to make sense of it, changing their strained dynamic. It’s layered, well-written and deeply personal. It’s a unique story that has to be told.

If you’re expecting the sleek, playful, and totally over-the-top spy shenanigans of 2005’s Mr. & Mrs. Smith, you’re not going to find it in this 2024 version, not that it’s a bad thing. In fact, this show stands on its own, reinventing the spy couple into a professional partnership rather than an immediate spark that leads to marriage. This decision makes the show feel like the film’s opposite– as the longer runtime and naturalistic aura enables more focus on the incomparable Donald Glover and Maya Erskine rather than the explosions– but it makes the danger feel more unpredictable and not just action set pieces. Mr. & Mrs. Smith may not be the star-powered, guns-blazing action comedy we’re familiar with, but it’s certainly a more thoughtful, fresh take that improves on the concept.

A quick look at Anne Lister’s Wikipedia page will let you know that the English landowner lived a full life. She dutifully attended to her tenants, traveled widely, wrote frequently, and loved oh so deeply. With Gentleman Jack, a nickname Lister received during her lifetime, Director Sally Wainwright (Happy Valley) gives her story justice by telling it with sufficient skill and sensitivity. Wainwright isn’t afraid to explore her voracious sexual appetite, her intellectual rigor, and her at-times questionable stance on land tenure. Wainwright’s decision to make the show as much about Lister as the servants and tenants is reminiscent of dramas like Downton Abbey, which give us a fuller picture of life back in the 1800s. Though it can sometimes make the show tonally discordant (is this a lesbian erotica, a day in the life period piece, or a family drama?) it ultimately adds to the richness of the story.

In Landscapers, what could’ve been a tedious story based on yet another true-crime affair is transformed into a fantastic fable that challenges and reimagines truth in imaginative ways. It’s more like a play than anything, complete with revolving sets, multicolor lights, and the occasional breaking of the fourth wall. But when it’s not staged like a theater show, then it has fun experimenting with form and genre. The series is masterfully edited to blend reality with the cinema Susan and Cristopher love so much, so sometimes they’re in soft-focus black and white, other times they’re in technicolor flair. It’s a technical wonder, but thanks to Colman and Thewlis’ performances, it’s also a twisted love story and an emotional roller coaster.

Unlike a handful of modern period dramas, Harlots isn’t flashy just for the sake of being flashy. It carries messages that (sadly) still ring true to this day, most of them about female bodily autonomy and the near impossibility of upward mobility. The show is smart about it, never preachy, presenting us with fleshed-out characters with contradictory ideals. Charlotte (Jessica Brown Findlay), for instance, craves freedom but enjoys the security being under a master affords her. Indeed the entire premise of the series is ironic: how can a show about female prostitution be empowering? By being relevant and relatable, as it turns out, and consistently impressive too. The show has garnered high ratings throughout its three seasons, though it unfortunately isn’t enough to convince Hulu for a fourth run. Their loss, this is the period drama that could’ve and should’ve given Netflix’s Bridgerton a run for its money.

Sexual assault and trafficking are never easy to depict onscreen, especially when they’re based on true events, but Three Girls strikes a balance between realism and empathy. It’s gritty but never gratuitous, critical but never preachy. You can tell the cast and crew took their time to carefully tell this important tale, which continues to be overlooked by authorities in Manchester. As a result, Three Girls can be difficult and frustrating to sit through, but that only speaks to the quality of its acting and storytelling. Three Girls is a must-watch, but you’d be forgiven for not wanting to put it on a second time.

In Years and Years, showrunner Russel T Davies (Doctor Who) takes our worst fears in 2019 and makes us live through them in shocking detail through the Lyons family, a likable and relatable bunch who bond through the joys and horrors of a quickly changing nation. It amplifies heated issues like the growing conservatism in the UK and the threat of world war ignited by China and the US, as well as global warming, depleting species, and our growing reliance on AI and tech. As one review puts it, Years and Years feels very much like Black Mirror, but with more heart and hope. It’s both fascinating and frightening, especially since the predictions Davies makes aren’t too far off from the unstable reality we’re living in now.

Created by Peaky Blinders showrunner Steven Knight, A Thousand Blows zooms in on the London Victorian underworld and follows three outsiders trying to uplift themselves in different, often illegal ways. There’s Mary Carr (Erin Rachael Doherty), an ambitious pickpocket who heads an all-female crime syndicate; Sugar Goodson (Stephen Graham), a merchant by day and bare-knuckle boxing champion by night; and London newcomer Hezekiah Moscow (Malachi Kirby), a Jamaican lion tamer who gets roped into Mary and Sugar’s complicated world. The conflicts the show takes onshow’s conflicts are as old as time: wealth inequality, gender divide, and racial discrimination. But Knight gives them a modern refresh so, coupled with razor-sharp dialogue, impressive choreography, gorgeous 1880s details, and stellar performances (particularly from Kirby), the show is invigorating to watch. Peaky Blinders fans who are missing the show will especially appreciate its grit and dark humor.

It’s easy to feel like you’ll know exactly what you’ll get once you see stills from Guy Ritchie’s MobLand, which stars Tom Hardy, Pierce Brosnan, and Helen Mirren. But while it features cliches of the mafia genre, MobLand is far from boring. Plenty of things are happening all at once, and in lesser hands, these storylines would’ve been a mess. But under Ritchie’s veteran guidance, things come together elegantly. It helps that Hardy is the perfect lead. Sure, he’s tough as the London underground’s main fixer, but he’s also surprisingly polite at times and quick-wittedly humorous at others. In the show’s quieter moments, he even manages to be poignant. The changes in tone are never jarring, instead always arriving at the right time. Even if Ritchie and Hardy have directed and starred in too-many-to-mention mob stories, they still delight and surprise in this enjoyable British series.

Five delinquents are stuck together in juvenile detention. The kids are bored, and they are all doing their best to be as rude as possible to each other and their supervisor. One afternoon there’s a big storm and they all get struck by lightening. The next day they wake up with the realization that they are not the same people as they were the day before. Each episode follows the perspective from a different character. This is not your average superhero gang – nor are their powers particularly desirable. In essence the show is about a group of “misfits” trying to make connections and fit in. It’s at times heart warming, at others it will make you cringe. There is some seriously good acting between Iwan Rheon (Game of Thrones) and Antonia Thomas (Love Sick). The plot is very gripping so it will be hard to not watch the whole first season (6 Episodes) in one afternoon.

Claire Foy (The Crown), Damian Lewis (Homeland), and Mark Rylance (Dunkirk) star in this highly-acclaimed period drama about the rise of Thomas Cromwell as he goes from being the son of a blacksmith to becoming an important figure in British history.

The miniseries is made up of only six parts, despite being based on two famous books that span thousands of pages. The result is a dense, fast-paced and compelling historical drama, where each frame manages to look like a delicate painting. And all that is very difficult not to binge in one take.

This short-lived BBC series is premised on a simple but ingenious idea: what if zombies could be treated and welcomed back into society? In the Flesh posits that the battle between humans and the undead would be more political and social, rather than just fatal. It sees a return to the use of zombies as a more direct representation of alienation and societal divide, instead of having them just be soulless creatures to be feared and killed. So if you ever wished you could view a less gory Walking Dead, then the haunting and profound In the Flesh is your best bet.

Based on the book of the same name by celebrated author Neil Gaiman, Good Omens is a fantastic story about an angel and a demon teaming up to save the world. Michael Sheen and David Tennant play the deities who go against their superiors’ apocalyptic orders after having grown too fond of both the fun and follies brought about by the human race. This unexpected team-up, along with the creative use of Christian concepts and the comedic chops of all the actors onboard, are what make Good Omens a subversive, inventive, and thoroughly entertaining series.

Based on true events, A Spy Among Friends tells the story of Kim Philby (Guy Pearce) and Nicholas Elliot (Damian Lewis), best friends who worked for MI6, that is until Philby defected to the Soviet Union. Subject to inquisition and intense scrutiny, Philby and Elliot test the strength of their friendship against growing political turmoil.

The series starts slow and the dialogue, while smart, can get heavy-handed. But if you give it some time, the payoffs are rewarding. The sets are immersive as it spans different eras and countries; the actors are charismatic as they present enigmatic layers for us to unfold; and the particulars of espionage manage to feel freshly shocking in a story told many times before. 

Artful, well-performed, and gripping, A Spy Among Friends is a great watch for fans of voluble but intelligent thrillers.

It’s hard to shock viewers nowadays, with TV being saturated with every type of show imaginable. But Am I Being Unreasonable? succeeds at standing out with deceptive simplicity. The six-part series asks us to follow Nic (Daisy May Cooper) and Jen (Selin Hizli), seemingly ordinary mothers living seemingly ordinary lives. Predictably, it starts with their midlife malaise, but the more we learn about the pair, the more complex and fearsome they become, and the more it becomes clear how difficult it is to know (and much less trust) another person. 

The show swerves from drama to comedy to romance to horror all in a flash, and in lesser hands these changes can be frustrating and jarring. But here they feel welcome and fresh, thanks in large part to confident direction, a whipsmart script, and the wonderful relationship that forms between Nic and Jen. Every twist feels justified and every genre shift feels ingenious. Like its leads, Am I Being Unreasonable? can seem simple at first, but it dives into unexpected depths with every new episode.

Initially, The Change’s premise might seem as eccentric as its kooky characters, but this comedy series set in ancient woods makes a compelling case for itself over six short episodes. When Linda (writer Bridget Christie) is diagnosed as menopausal, it triggers a flash of clarity: she’s tired of being reduced to “wife” and “mother.” Depressed by all her ledgers recording every second she’s spent doing unappreciated housework, Linda decides to reclaim a few thousand minutes, and takes off on her motorbike to the Forest of Dean to look for the time capsule of cherished belongings she hid there as a child following her mother’s death.

Because this motivation is only explained later, the show has a somewhat perplexing beginning, but a couple of episodes in, it finds its footing. The Change makes sharp punchlines out of boorish man-children — and, although it has varying success getting laughs out of its more bigoted characters, it does decenter them and dole out acceptance to the overlooked, making it refreshingly divergent from “topical” comedies’ usual flippancy. The spiritual link it draws between its apparently unrelated focuses — menopause and the natural environment — adds to its originality and empathy, making this a comedy of untypical thoughtfulness.

From Happy Valley and Line of Duty to Luther and Sherwood, the BBC has produced some of the finest police dramas in recent TV history, and Better is a worthy addition to the roster. It’s not as refined as the mentioned shows, but it’s grounded by a riveting, morally conflicted performance by Fazard. The breakdown of her conscience, the constant negotiation between obligation and survival, the road toward redemption—Fazard embodies it all with rugged grace. It’s not often we get the point of view of a corrupt cop, and when we do, we rarely see them with this much screen time and backstory. Better is an okay crime thriller, but it’s even better as a character study of the well-meaning, desperate, and brilliant Lou. 

In an early scene in Such Brave Girls, Josie (Kat Sadler) compares herself and her sister Billie (Lizzie Davidson) to a more attractive woman. “She’s live, love, laugh,” she says, “We’re death, silence, hate.” At this point, you’d think Sadler, who is also the creator and writer of the show, and Davidson, who is Sadler’s real-life sister, are the types to indulge in their sadness and romanticize their dysfunction. Though that happens to some degree, Sadler is self-aware enough to steer clear of wallow territory and offer something insightful about mental health and the ways we cope (or fail to, anyway). Parents who dismiss depression are called out, as are social workers and supposed experts who stereotype people with the illness. But weirdly enough, the show is never downright cynical. Josie is sweet enough to cut through the darkness, as are her ignorant and selfish though ultimately well-meaning family members. You’ll probably recall Broad City and Fleabag while watching Such Brave Girls because of its unapologetic approach to both sex and suicide, but maybe more than those two shows, Such Brave Girls is willing to root its themes deeper into reality. It almost never brings up mental health without contextualizing it in the family’s low-income state, making it one of the most relatable and urgent shows you can watch right now.

It can be slow, intense, and a tad too sardonic for some people, but Department Q is a well-crafted detective series that keeps you on the edge of your seat till the end. Like Slow Horses before it, it follows a group of misfit (and therefore likeable) cops eager to prove their skills to the eagle-eyed public. In Department Q, the outcasts are tasked to solve cold cases, and reluctantly leading them is DCI Carl Morck (Matthew Goode), a cynical and antisocial genius with a heart of gold. Department Q is as much about the difficult cases as it is about Morck and the characters’ battling their personal demons.

This is an thrilling BBC/Netflix show and a Yakuza drama that takes place between Tokyo and London. About half of the dialogue is in Japanese and the other half is in English.

Yakuza families are no longer at peace when a boss’s nephew is assassinated in London. Trying to bring the culprit in without interference from the British police, a Tokyo detective is sent to the UK to try to find him. 

There is an undeniable appeal to seeing the world of yakuza unfold, but the show’s title, which translates to Duty/Shame is a reference to the detective’s own personal conflict: the suspected murderer he’s looking for is his brother. Ouu.

This excellent British detective drama is from Sally Wainwright, writer and creator of Happy Valley. It premiered back in 2011 and now has five seasons to dive into for an extended binge.

Rachel Bailey and Janet Scott are two murder-unit detectives in Manchester, England. The show is as much about their cases as it is about their friendship and lives. In the first episode, while Rachel Bailey investigates the alleged suicide of a Turkish immigrant, she’s also investigating her ex-partner, who suspiciously broke up with her and moved away.

It’s packed with the buddy-cop genre, which admittedly has been overdone in British TV. But who knew the solution to making something feel completely fresh is as easy as having the buddies be two women.

There is no shortage of craft and ambition in The English, a miniseries that employs tropes of classic Westerns, like the soulful anti-hero and the loyal sidekick, but also twists them enough to make them feel fresh. For instance, instead of typical cowboys, we have as our leads Cornelia Locke (Emily Blunt), an aristocratic Englishwoman, and Eli Whipp (Chaske Spencer), a native who also served in the US army. Both of them are terribly out of place in the Wild West, but they’re fueled with the kind of vengeful drive that leads to bloody outcomes, which are themselves staples of the genre.

The English is sweeping, both in scope and scenery, and solemn. Fans will appreciate how seriously the show treats the genre, and they’ll take pleasure in its familiarity, from the twisty mysteries and brutal disputes to the gritty backdrops and arid vistas. In this instance, the show’s ambition perfectly fits the genre.

As the real-life British politician John Stonehouse who, among other things, served as a spy for Czechoslovakia and faked his own death, Matthew Macfadyen is incredibly funny. He owns the role of the bumbling fool, a master at inducing laughs and sympathy at the same time. And with Stonehouse, he has endless material. The man is narcissistic and power-hungry, but he also has a habit of biting off more than he can chew, so seeing him stumble in his lies is both funny and tragic to watch. If I can use another metaphor—watching Stonehouse is like watching a train power through despite falling off the rails. It’s a wreck to be sure, but one you can’t quite peel your eyes from.

Another great thing about Stonehouse? It only has three (concise but jam-packed) episodes. So if you’re looking for a one-day binge, this might just be it.

Life should be difficult for Charlie Spring, an openly gay student in an all-boys high school. And it is, to be sure—he’s mocked, ridiculed, and at times literally shoved to the sidelines. But Hearstopper doesn’t just dwell on misery; rather, it shows us the many colors, the multifaceted wonders, of Charlie’s life. His friends, family, and newfound crush, Nick, help keep him afloat in the murky waters of teenhood.

Like the show itself, Charlie and Nick are insistently sweet and charming, which can feel bold in a world that is driven by so much cynicism and hate. It’s this glowing sensitivity, coupled with the show’s inclusive characters and levelheaded insight, that make Hearstopper a heartwarmingly good watch. 

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.

More a showcase of various styles of animation than an expansion of Star Wars lore (and all the better for it), Visions finds some of the freshest expression for these tired tropes—rendered in what are easily the best visuals this franchise has ever seen. Across the 18 episodes of its first two seasons, the series communicates the mystical nature of this universe with much more ease than the live-action films do. And even as Visions begins to repeat some of the exact same ideas and story structures in multiple episodes, the repetition also begins to feel like the reinforcement of a universal narrative throughout time and space: there will always be light that will counter the darkness, often coming from the bonds between family and friends.

Coming-of-age shows are practically Netflix’s bread-and-butter, but the working class side of Brisbane in the 80’s is a suburb we didn’t expect the international streamer to visit. Based on the semi-autobiographical novel with the same name, Boy Swallows Universe is centered on the precocious Eli Bell, whose age and curiosity naturally pushes him to try and figure out how he fits in the world. There are some magic realist elements, and the crimes escalate as we go further and further into the miniseries, but the show shines best when depicting the slow, day-to-day moments in Bell’s family. The show never judges them, nor does it totally excuse their actions. Instead, Boy Swallows Universe depicts a certain nostalgic compassion one could only have for their hometown, regardless of how downtrodden it is.

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.

With a film version that didn’t live up to the hype of the original novel, Netflix’s adaptation of One Day released just in time to wreck the fans’ hearts all over again, but this time, it’s a good thing. The expanded runtime allowed Netflix to delve more into the moments in the novel, with each episode dedicated to a day in the year in Emma’s and Dexter’s lives, contrasting their respective worlds and opportunities available to them as different members of London society. And the couple is played beautifully by Leo Woodall and Ambika Mod, with a believable chemistry that isn’t formed in a single spark, but made in multiple moments. If you’re needing a good cry just right before Valentine’s Day, One Day is a superb slow burn romance to let those tears out.

British period dramas usually tend to fall under two categories: traditional or contemporary. The former risks being boring while the latter risks being obnoxious. Vanity Fair, the miniseries, thankfully falls somewhere in the middle. It sticks to the source by presenting Emma Sharpe as an unapologetic social climber, but expounds her character so that we sympathize with her circumstances. Of course she’s cunning, she has to be in order to survive. Of course she’s a flirt, she wasn’t raised to be as conservative as her contemporaries. Because of updates like these, the series feels invigorating and refreshing to watch, even though rags-to-riches and princess-and-the-pauper-like stories have been told many times. Often, it veers towards soapy territory, but it’s nonetheless fun and exciting (and sparkly for avid gown fans!) to watch.

Is a TV adaptation necessary when we already have a novel and film version of Howards End? Probably not, but this four-parter from the BBC is beautiful and damning nonetheless. As in previous texts, the show follows two families of opposing ideologies—the Schlegels and the Wilcoxes—as they ponder on ideas of class and politics, ultimately becoming the thing they claim to despise. The Wilcoxes, conservatives, are more obviously judgemental, but it’s the liberal Schlegels who are more interesting to watch. They assuage their guilt and impose their supposed goodness by trying to help someone of the lower class, but the results are varied, if not downright tragic. Like most British period dramas, the costumes here are beautifully detailed and the speech wonderfully eloquent. But Howards End, appropriately, is less dramatic and sensual than the usual fare. As other critics have pointed out, this is a show about ideas and people above all, so if that’s your cup of tea, then this should come as an enjoyable, bingeable treat.

Before he was a beloved TV star, comedian Alan Carr was a young boy growing up in a small town not quite ready for his shine. In Changing Ends, he takes us through that childhood, which is sometimes sweet, sometimes tough, but always comfortingly, relatably hilarious. By appearing in it and addressing us, present-day Carr ran the risk of being cheeky, explanatory, self-indulgent, and jarring—the 1980s setting is nice and nostalgic, why ruin it?—but his presence surprisingly works. It’s interesting to see the differences and lasting similarities between Young Carr and Old Carr. The former is naive and unrelentingly himself while the latter is worldly and reflective, and also unrelentingly himself. You don’t have to know who Carr is to enjoy this short but sweet entry (I certainly didn’t), you only have to recall that time in your life when you first started growing into yourself—how simultaneously awkward, painful, and exhilarating it felt.

Emotional and increasingly hard to watch over its five episodes, It’s a Sin nevertheless reminds us about an aspect of the AIDS crisis that often gets buried underneath accounts of suffering and injustice. We’re shown a truly supportive, joyful community that wasn’t simply engaging in shallow pleasures, but helping each other become their best selves. This optimism at the beginning gives the miniseries an even more tragic quality, as these characters struggle to recover from the initial shock and confusion of the spread of this disease. It’s a smartly paced and economical show that that still manages to show off the talents of a brilliant cast—in particular, Olly Alexander, Callum Scott Howells, and a star-making turn from Lydia West going toe-to-toe with the exceptional Keeley Hawes in a scene-stealing guest role.

Tour de France: Unchained is an intense sports docuseries depicting the ins and outs of the prominent cycling race. While cycling is an individual activity, Tour de France is structured to be a team sport — usually comprising around 20 teams with eight riders each. The first season depicts the 2022 run from Copenhagen to Champs-Élysées, the comeback after the pandemic, with players looking to defeat two-time defending champion Tadej Pogačar (UAE Team Emirates). If you’re up to date with cycling news, you’ll know how this one ends. However, it’s still a worthwhile watch, as the show goes behind the scenes to witness the team dynamics, the severe falls, and the steep challenges. With this in mind, Tour de France is very watchable, especially for fans of the sport.

Black Snow has the sleek style of a modern murder mystery, but its concern with Australia’s colonial past that sets this show apart. As a neo-noir series centered on a murder, the show has all the classic elements: the hardboiled detective, the suspicious townsfolk, and the murder. As the murder is set in 1994, nostalgic summer-tinged high school scenes make it easy to root for justice for the show’s young victim.

But the series stands out as it’s always mindful of Isabel Baker, always concerned with her and her dynamics with her friends, family, and her South Sea Islander (ASSI) community. Supported by the strong performance of newcomer Talijah Blackman-Corowa, and even consulting the ASSI community personally in the show’s development and production, Black Snow is excellent not just as a murder mystery but also as a depiction of a community that’s rarely portrayed on screen.

After the successful release of The Gentlemen (2019), it would have been easy to just continue the story with the same cast of characters, but instead Guy Ritchie makes a spinoff with the same cannibis chaos, but instead expands it to a startlingly funny depiction of the British aristocracy and the criminal underworld. It has all the action-packed styling Ritchie is known for, with each episode bringing up a new inheritance issue Theo James as Eddie Halstead has to solve, with the help of a cool and cunning Kara Scodelario. While the episodic troubles do feel a bit tired after eight long episodes, The Gentlemen keeps the intrigue through never losing sight of the tension occurring between the main duo.

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.

In Sweetpea, every element comes together to make an addictive watch. The premise is amusing on its own—a shy girl is pushed so far into the edge she sees murder as a viable option—but brought to life by stylish direction, witty lines, and an irresistibly endearing Ella Purnell, you get great TV. It’s not exactly novel (the underrated Hulu series Obituary has a similar premise) but it benefits from having more than a few twists hidden up its sleeve, not to mention a complex anti-hero in Purnell, who you know is wrong but feel bad for anyway. Who doesn’t want to root for the little girl standing up to her bully, the girl who stomps her foot down and demands her hard-earned respect at the workplace? Of course, it’s never that simple, and it’s that conflicting feeling of liking and abhorrent Purnell’s character that makes it an intriguing show.

How the Brits have mastered the art of making very funny shows about very grumpy people will never cease to amaze me. Belonging to that stacked category is Black Books, which follows a trio of shopkeepers as they go about their days in a semi-alcoholic haze. The situations themselves are mundane and involve everything from fixing the shops’ finances to going on dates, but it’s how they cope that makes the show hilarious. It’s more slapstick and surreal than anything, leaning heavily on the actors’ expert physical comedy and timing. The lead, Bernard (played by Dylan Morran who you might know as the book thief in Notting Hill), is a cynical drunk who abhors people, even and especially his own customers. But he’s tempered by his levelheaded accountant Manny (Bill Bailey) and the next-door shopkeeper Fran (Tamsin Greig). This isn’t the sort of sitcom that dives too deep into the psyches of its characters, but that doesn’t make them any less relatable or lovable. Though it first aired in 2000, Black Books doesn’t feel dated at all, thanks in large part to its surreal humor and its nihilistic characters, who share more than a few similarities with today’s quiet-quitting generation.

Des is a miniseries that understands viewers have had about enough with serial killers and true crime. Aware of the fatigue, it skillfully compresses the stories of Des’ multiple victims into three taut episodes without ever feeling forced or too much. The subject of Des’ sexuality (he expresses a fondness for men but never officially came out) is also sensitively handled. Des’ biographer in the series, who is an out-gay writer, makes a valid point: better he tells Des’ story no matter how terrifying than someone else outside of the community. Who knows what false and demonizing correlations will be made? But just as big a chunk of the series is rightly focused on the two detectives desperately seeking justice for the victims. Though they can seem holier-than-thou at times because of the lack of characterization, they, too, ask the right questions about justice and rightful punishment. It may be too talky for some viewers, but there’s no denying Des is a smart show, one bolstered by strong performances.

Toxic Town tells the true story of how toxic waste in the steel-making town of Corby, England led a group of affected mothers to pursue justice. Helping them out is pro-bono lawyer Des Collins (Rory Kinnear), while on the other end of the case is Corby’s local government, who (unsurprisingly) are in cahoots with the steel mill responsible for the poisoning. The show’s beats are familiar; it’s a classic legal drama with streaks of political corruption and conspiracy, while also being an underdog story about victims rising to the powers that be. But its familiarity is easily forgiven thanks to the heartwarming performances of Jodie Whittaker and Aimee Lou Wood, who play two of the mothers with disabled children. The show, though short at just four episodes, gives them ample space to grieve, celebrate, and essentially be human–as opposed to just angry women serving as plot points to a drama. Their humanization and compassion for one another, as well as the thrilling pace and intelligent back-and-forths, are what make the show worth watching.

Based on the 1962 award winning novel of the same name by Philip K. Dick, The Man in the High castle presents a world in which World War II concluded with the victory of the Axis powers, dividing the United States of America into two powers on the verge of conflict, the Greater German Reich and the Japanese Pacific States. The show follows Juliana Crain (Alexa Davalos) and her boyfriend Frank Frink (Rupert Evans) as their lives quickly turn into chaos when they come across a film reel that shows a glimpse into the world that could have been, ours, bringing the couple to the restless attention of both governments and of the resistance. The Man in the High Castle will captivate you with excellent writing, a superb cast, and a carefully crafted world that is as believable as it is terrifying.

In After Life, Ricky Gervais plays a kind-hearted journalist who turns dark after his wife passes away. Her parting gift to him is a video manual on how to deal with life. But his pessimism and annoyance with people keep delaying him from watching it. Worst of all, a new recruit at the newspaper is assigned to work with him. Her determined personality not only further delays him from dealing with his sadness, but gives him the platform to be even darker and more pessimistic. After Life is a mix of dark humor, straightforward drama, and tragedy. It’s a difficult story packaged in the easiest and most digestible TV form. The episodes are quick, have clear arcs and plot; and yet, you won’t be able to shake the feeling that you’re watching something much deeper than a Ricky Gervais comedy.

Narrated by Mahershala Ali, Chimp Empire is a four-part series that takes a captivating closer look at the drama, dynamics, and surprising politics that goes on in the biggest chimpanzee community in the world. Set in the deep forest of Ngogo, Uganda, the docuseries gives us rare access to the tribes’ complex lives and ties to each other.

It shouldn’t be surprising how closely their society resembles ours (The Guardian calls the series “Succession but with apes”), but director James Reed gives this well-known fact a fresh spin by highlighting humanistic narratives and intimate details. It’s enthralling through and through.

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.