100 Best British TV Shows to Watch Right Now

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.