100 Best British TV Shows to Watch Right Now

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.

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.

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.

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

Frayed is one of those shows whose simple premise is made special by a strong script and even stronger performances. The humor is Australian dry, but it’s punctuated by surprisingly sweet moments that make you root for the growth of its complicated characters. The show is elevated, too, by its wonderfully detailed and realized setting: 1980s Australia, except it’s not Home and Away or any of the wealthy suburbias we’ve come to know via Aussie soaps, but a real place, Kendall’s hometown Newcastle, that is in the midst of an industrial recession and population diversification. As a whole, Frayed might seem like just another streaming dramedy, but there’s a lot to love here if you stick around.

Mrs. Wilson is the stranger-than-fiction tale of how a British World War II agent got away with being married to multiple women simultaneously, all while keeping in contact with them and “never missing a child’s birthday.” The women, of course, were unaware of one another. It sounds like the premise of a true crime doc on Netflix, or perhaps a cheesy reenacted drama on the Lifetime channel. Instead, it’s the basis of a BBC three-parter that unfolds in elegant and compelling ways. In an inspired move, the series stars Ruth Wilson, who is the real-life granddaughter of the protagonist Alison Wilson. As she uncovers buried truth after buried truth, the more complex Wilson’s web of lies becomes, and the more eager we are to see how everyone reacts to one another. A smart script, sensitive treatment, and skilled performances elevate this from a story of mere (but relatable) marital woes to a story of passion and determination, with some pretty period details to boot.