50 Best Coming-of-Age Shows to Watch Right Now

To appreciate The Inbetweeners, you’d have to understand that it was a product of its time. The British R-rated show was created in the late 2000s, back when being gay and male harassment were treated as mere jokes, as opposed to serious matters. So in that way, it can feel a bit dated. But in its own curious and funny way, The Inbetweeners is both an example and a subversion of toxic masculinity, which tends to harden at around the age the characters are in. Beneath their vulgar and perenially horny exterior, there is something softer and more vulnerable aching to be seen. At least among themselves (and us the audience), the four young lads at the heart of this show can show both parts without being judged. Yes, The Inbetweeners is crude and raunchy and unafraid to be as authentic as its teen leads, but at its core, it’s simply a come-of-age story that follows four guys figuring out their place in the world.

It’s tempting to say that Heartbreak High, with its gloriously unfiltered takes on relationships of all kinds, is just another Sex Education replica, especially since both shows don the same multicolored fashion and Commonwealth accent. But while Heartbreak High isn’t breaking new ground by having kids and adults talk openly about sex and gender, it’s also bold, funny, and insightful in its own right. The characters are well-drawn and the problems are relatable; the show itself is sometimes annoying but also, more importantly, authentic. It’s perfectly imperfect in that contradictory teens can only be.

As a teen series, Los Billis follows a familiar structure. David, like most teen heroes, is shy, awkward, and hopelessly in love with the most popular girl in his high school. With the help of his friends, however, he learns to stand up not just against bullies but the harsh looming reality of adulthood. It sounds typical on paper, but Los Billis benefits from a rich production value and a clear theme, that of social class. There’s not a gelled hair out of place here, but more than nailing the ‘80s look, Los Billis masterfully (and never forcefully) connects nearly every problem the kids face to money. They’re constantly yearning for, losing, and fighting over it, which is the reality many teens outside the US face. Often, Los Billis will also touch on colonialism, like when David admits they all judge each other based on how closely their outfits resemble American teens. For the most part, Los Billis is textbook coming-of-age, but it’s enriched by the unique Colombian teen experience. 

Three kids from a poor neighborhood win scholarships to the best high-school in Spain and later find themselves at the center of a murder. There is a lot that comes to the surface from the working-class kids clashing with the wealthy. Themes of money, power, religion, and even sexuality make this show so compelling that I never felt like I needed a murder to keep watching.

As is sometimes the case with multi-genre shows, Paper Girls starts off slow and gives us a lot to process at the onset. But if you give it some time, the eight-episode series delivers both on the sci-fi and drama fronts. Sure, it could benefit from a bigger CGI budget, but the world it imagines about timekeepers and time benders is inspired and intriguing, certainly worth exploring as much as we do the lore behind shows like Doctor Who and Loki. 

That said, the series is at its best when it centers on its mundane leads, the titular paper girls. The conversations they engage in and the epiphanies they have are gut-wrenching, not only because of their sentiment but also because of their truth. These 12-year-olds are confused and anxious and awkward and lonely—preteen girls on the brink of adolescence. The show doesn’t shy away from those qualities and parallels their volatility with sci-fi elements. The result is a nicely balanced story, equal parts thrilling and touching. It’s the perfect watch for people who enjoy fares like Back to the Future, E.T., and Stranger Things, which are themselves perfect blends of the sci-fi and coming-of-age genres. 

The most surprising thing about Overcompensating is that, underneath the sexual romps and irreverent humor, there exists something sweet in the form of Benny and Carmen’s friendship. Yes, the show is largely about college and exploring the boundaries of freedom. It’s also about the different performances we put on in an awkward attempt to fit in and realize Who We Are. But it can also feel like it’s tackling too much at times, without a lot of novelty. College-set films and shows like Undeclared, The Sex Lives of College Girls, and even Neighbors have already treaded similar ground in sharper and funnier ways. But Overcompensating is still worth the watch, if only to see how Benny and Carmen grow and find platonic comfort in each other. Campy characters like Hallie (Holmes) and Esther (Kaia Gerber) also provide plenty of laughs and elevate it into something truly memorable.

Based on a novel, The Lying Life of Adults might feel, at first, like a standard Netflix coming-of-age series, complete with vintage styling (the 90’s, this time) and teenage shenanigans, like skipping classes, preoccupation over sex, and rebelling against parental disapproval. Sure, the show does go through these moments, but the writing of original novelist Elena Ferrante, with the assistance of the writing team and showrunner Edoardo De Angelis, elevates this template through its subtleties, as Giovanna visits her estranged aunt Vittoria, and compares and contrasts the way she lives, with the way her parents approach life. It’s both a portrait of a divided family, but also one of a divided city, and it makes Giovanna’s coming-of-age a more nuanced journey that we haven’t seen before.

Youth of May is exactly what it says on the tin. It’s a straightforward spring-set coming-of-age drama where young adults chase after their dreams, if they have any, and try to figure out what they want otherwise. Like plenty of other K-dramas, this usually involves a romance. But in between the ordinary romance, life strikes. Students fight for democracy, and at the time, the government cracked down on them brutally, but because the show spent time getting to know Myung-hee and Hui-tae, the consequences of these events make it all the more poignant. Youth of May reminds us of the humanity behind the brave students that fought for South Korea’s democracy, and the lives that have been tragically cut short for it.

I Told Sunset About You isn’t the most original series out there. The school setting, the tense rivalry, and the years spent apart are familiar tropes, even for heterosexual coming-of-age dramas, though the added dimension of Teh’s Chinese Thai background is new. That being said, it doesn’t hold up the series alone. I Told Sunset About You gets specific, and in delving deep into Teh and Oh-aew’s characters, it’s clear how heartfelt and genuine the show is in depicting its story. There are moments that can be cheesy, but with the sweet way the show depicts these tender teenage years, it’s no wonder I Told Sunset About You easily reminds queer people about their own experiences in navigating these feelings.

On-screen, we’ve seen downtrodden Cinderella-esque leads, we’ve seen humans transform into animals, and we’ve seen whole families cursed, but Fruits Basket takes all these plot devices and transforms them into something completely different. As Tohru Honda gets to learn about the mysterious Sohma family, and she and friends gets into fun and wacky hijinks with the curse, the series takes the legend of the Chinese zodiac as a unique and effortless means to discuss systemic, generational abuse and resulting trauma that can occur within a family. The classic shoujo manga was first adapted into anime in 2001, but we’re recommending the later 2019 adaptation, which goes more in depth and depicts the complete story.

If you’ve seen one too many true crime documentaries, you might shake your head at the things sixteen-year-old Penelope does upon running away from her high school camp. You might (rightly) ask, why is she camping in the middle of nowhere all alone? Why is she trusting all these different strangers who, for all she knows, could be a serial killer or a trafficker? And why approach that bear? Why sleep in that clearing? But the sooner you let go of those worries and accept that Penelope is more of a fable about growing up and finding yourself than it is a literal survival tale, the better. Which isn’t to say it fails as the latter—Penelope is surprisingly watchable as she learns the ways of the wilderness. In fact, one near-silent episode is dedicated to just Penelope learning the ropes, literally, and it’s one of the season’s best. As long as you don’t get stuck in the details of Penelope’s journey and take aside your cynicism for just a while, you’ll find something touching and humanizing in this short but sweet series.

Stills and synopses of The Summer I Turned Pretty make it seem like typical teenage fluff. It isn’t. Sure, it starts off cheesy and predictable, but it quickly blossoms into something rich and earnest and far more significant than the sum of its parts. The love triangle is merely a jumping-off point to better understand these flawed characters and the people around them. Outside of Belly’s coming-of-age journey, there is her brother who encounters a rude awakening on race and class, and their mother who, fresh from a divorce, attempts to establish an identity of her own. Everyone has their own thing going on in this series, so it’s easy to feel invested in their fleshed-out failures and triumphs. 

It also feels authentically young; the music sounds like it was curated by an actual teenager, while the performances are raw and believable, not stilted and forced as it often is with teen series. The Summer I Turned Pretty is familiar, but comfortingly so. Watch this if you’re yearning to re-live the magical, heartbreaking feeling of being young and in love for the first time. 

Also known as Rabo de Peixe, after the real town where the series is based, Turn of the Tide follows a group of four friends, who dream of a life outside their hometown, where nothing ever happens. Except, something does finally happen, and it’s whole packs of cocaine washing up on the island’s shores. It’s a wild series, one where the show’s teen underdogs take advantage of sailing expertise and knowledge of the town in order to sell out one third of the stash from the mainland Italian mafia. And it’s one that is endlessly entertaining, as we hope for the four teenagers to succeed in their plan, and to escape for another life.

There is a warm glow and a languid mood about We Are Who We Are that makes it feel familiar for anyone who’s seen Luca Guadagnino’s works. But this eight-part series is longer than the auteur’s films (a stacked list that includes Call Me By Your Name and Bones and All), and so it can feel slow at times, dragging even. Still, it’s easy to forgive because of the relatable characters that lead the show. They’re confused, curious, and willing to bend their identities forward and back to learn something true about themselves. Nothing is set in stone here, neither gender, relationships, or politics, but that’s what makes it so validating to watch. It’s a complex picture—pretty but complex, as life often can be.

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

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

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

After the cool partnerships Titmouse and Netflix had, their next work was bound to be something to look forward to. Jentry Chau vs. The Underworld starts with a slow start, but the supernatural horror comedy is fun and entertaining, taking inspiration from Asian mythology and classic teen comedies, but writing these tropes and themes in exciting ways, weaving them into a cute, compelling coming-of-age story that reckons with intergenerational conflict, parental control, and self-acceptance. The story works really well, and it’s matched with bold, colorful animation, catchy K-pop soundtrack, and stunning sequences we’d love to watch more of. The lead might have trouble fitting in, but Jentry Chau stands out with its unique storytelling.

Watch out for Ezekiel in this show, he will steal your heart. And also please sit through the first episode. Yes, it’s long, but if you get The Get Down, it is one of the best shows on Netflix. Created by Baz Luhrmann and Pulitzer Prize winning playwright Stephen Adly Guirgis, it narrates the rise of hip-hop in a broken 1970’s New York. The impressive credentials don’t stop there, as the series is narrated by Nas, features work by four-time Academy Award winner Catherine Martin as well as hip-hop historian Nelson George. It is perhaps for this reason that the word “narration” takes its full meaning here. Every episode, every scene, every character are made with extreme care, resulting in sometimes longer than necessary sequences. A sacrifice that will make some viewers very happy, but which many might have a hard time adjusting to.

This comedy is about a girl whose family moves to the U.S. on September 2001. She grows up to excel academically but, as she asks from the shrine in her room on her first day of sophomore year, she has yet to be cool. “I want to be invited to a party with hard drugs,” she prays, “not to do them, but just to say: no cocaine for me, thanks. I’m good.”

The show is narrated by tennis legend John McEnroe who was known for his explosive temper (played recently by Shia Laboeuf in Borg vs McEnroe). It’s a genius arc because Devi is a “hothead”, exactly like McEnroe. Instead of recoiling, Devi keeps boiling over, making for a fresh and original high-school comedy.

Four college freshmen from different parts of the country come together as roommates to earn their bachelor’s degree, sure, but more than that, to explore their newfound independence, experiment with each other, and establish a sense of self that they can truly be proud of. In other words, they’re out to get an education, in every sense of the word. This is The Sex Lives of College Girls, a ten-episode series that delivers everything the title promises and more.

More than just a raunchy show (although it’s exciting in that regard too), The Sex Lives of College Girls is an earnest and charming account of what it’s like to navigate that murky, undefined space between youth and adulthood. This gives way to honest and sometimes brutal experiences, but they’re always balanced with the kind of fun, flirtatious hilarity that has long defined showrunner Mindy Kaling’s work (Never Have I Ever, The Mindy Project). Hilarious, relatable, and incredibly breezy, The Sex Lives of College Girls is one perfect binge.

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. 

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 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.

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.

Based on the Judy Blume novel of the same name, Forever follows two teens in Los Angeles as they navigate love, sex, and their first wade into adulthood. The eight-episode series updates the novel in major ways. Instead of the white 1970s suburban setting Blume (who executive produces the series) is known for, Forever hones in on the specific experiences of Black teens. One is Justin (Michael Cooper Jr.), a wealthy boy struggling to fit in at his predominantly white private school, and the other is Keisha (Lovie Simone), an intelligent track star who lost her scholarship because of a scandal involving her ex-boyfriend, Christian (Xavier Mills). It’s very easy for Forever to turn into a cliche, a coming-of-age series you’ve already seen a thousand times. But Forever stands out because of its specificity and sensitivity in portraying Black teen love. While many young adult shows rely on heavy drama and crazy plot twists, Forever’s characters are robust, interesting, and complicated enough to power eight episodes centered on them alone. Justin and Keisha are sometimes stupid and sometimes smart, but they remain relatable throughout. You’ll find much to like here, whether you’re a young person tuning in for something sweet and comforting, or an adult hoping to remember what it was like to feel as scared and excited to be on your own.

Keir Gilchrist who you may know from the movie It’s Kind of a Funny Story plays Sam, an 18-year-old on the autistic spectrum trying to navigate the “typical” aspects of a teenager’s life: dating, independence, friendships, etc. Perhaps people dealing with autism can better attest to this, but the show feels genuine and realistic. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a comedy, but it’s a really heartfelt approach to the funny sitcom format. In a lot of ways, Atypical is the perfect 2017 Netflix-age coming-of-age sitcom: it’s funny and smart, but also keen to be realistic. And Atypical is about Sam’s family almost as much as it is about him, and how they adjust to his new quest for self-discovery. Look out for newcomer Brigette Lundy-Paine, who does an amazing job playing Sam’s siter Casey!

This is Breaking Bad meets The Social Network. Based on a true story that took place in Leipzig, Germany in 2015, this show is about Moritz, a high-schooler who starts Europe’s biggest drug market online. He initially does this to impress his ex-girlfriend, who had just come back from the States with new drug experiences.

The transformation of a nerd into a drug kingpin is fascinating. But because it is based on a true story, there is an important nuance to that transformation. Moritz is rarely portrayed as a hero, and his creepy side is always present. This makes for an interesting and exciting plot-heavy show.  

Based on a forthcoming memoir by queer music duo Tegan & Sara, High School follows the twin sisters in ’90s Canada as they figure out their place in school, in family, and ultimately in each other’s lives. Despite the well-worn premise and the throwback setting, High School feels fresh and honest in ways that are not always present in teen stories. It’s delicate and subdued while still being potent and edgy—a great alternative if Netflix’s brasher teen fare isn’t for you. High School has been likened to other great authentic coming-of-age shows like Freaks and Geeks and My So-Called Life.

Coming-of-age shows are not hard to come by these days. If anything, there might be too many, with a majority of them being hit-or-miss in terms of quality. But before all this, there was one show that tested the waters and bravely went where no teen show had gone: it was called My So-Called Life, and like anything ahead of its time, it was canceled almost from the get-go. 

The show was one of the first to forgo happy endings and neat tie-ups in exchange for depicting the messy, complicated, and real. Fifteen-year-old Angela Chase (Claire Danes) was hardly likable, what with her bouts of angst and anger, but she was always relatable, and you could rely on her and the rest of the Three Rivers gang to deliver the unfiltered truth about teenhood. Even though the ’90s series didn’t attract enough eyeballs to warrant a second season, it’s now getting its due among modern audiences who recognize its influence in every disaffected young lead trying their best to navigate the confusing waters of youth.  

With the deluge of hyper-stylized teen shows everywhere (but especially on Netflix), Teenage Bounty Hunters comes as a refreshing and welcome surprise. Sisters Blair and Sterling, played by Anjelica Bette Fellini and Maddie Phillips respectively, strike the perfect balance between spiky and endearing, creating a chemistry that’s rare to see among TV siblings. There’s friction but also love all around. 

Their interactions alone make the series thoroughly enjoyable, but their coming-of-age hijinks and comedic timing, especially around their reluctant mentor Bowser (Kadeem Hardison), make it an absolute must-watch. If you enjoyed Booksmart but wished it was more action-packed, you’ll surely love this show.  

When a girls soccer team is left stranded in the wilderness, things quickly descend from worrisome to outright, delightful, and sometimes unbearably weird. It’s a classic tale of survival injected with fresh mystery and drama, and as you watch these girls navigate humanity in all its extremes—from the primal urge to live to the existential need to bond—you’re left feeling both wildly entertained and deeply disturbed all at once. 

Though Yellowjackets has drawn comparisons to beloved stories like Lost and Lord of the Flies, its unique pulse on the female experience is arguably its own thing: a sure and instant classic in the making. 

If you mention “coming-of-age show” and “Judd Apatow” in one breath, chances are people will think you’re talking about Freaks and Geeks, the highly revered series about a group of friends trying and failing to fit into high school. Despite being a commercial bust, it cemented Apatow as a tragicomic giant and launched the careers of Seth Rogen and James Franco (among many others) as the figures to watch out for a slapstick good time. But there is another series that falls into this category: the little-known but brilliant Undeclared, which also follows a group of young people (Rogen included!) trying their best to figure things out. 

Undeclared is set in college, however, and its main protagonist is Steven Karp (Jay Baruchel), a freshman who has a year to decide what he’s majoring in; until then, his status is undeclared. He’s joined by his roommates and the girls next door, and together they experiment—with class, ideologies, fraternities, and each other. The sky’s the limit for these newly independent adults, and as such, Apatow doesn’t hold back in his humor and subject matter. Undeclared captures that weird mix of apathy and ambition and awkwardness that college makes you feel, making it perfectly relatable for many of us. 

It’s also worth mentioning that a great deal of comedians, both established and up-and-coming at the time, make cameos here, including Will Ferrell, Adam Sandler, and pre-dental-surgery Amy Poehler.

TV has never been as diverse as it’s been today, but despite the multitude of perspectives, nailing an authentic and enjoyable story that’s outside the realm of the classic white experience continues to be tricky. How do you relay very real dangers like gang violence and poverty without undermining universal teenage concerns like heartbreak and rejection? 

Enter On My Block, a series that manages to stuff many things on its small plate without compromise. It’s funny and charming, but also smart and serious when it needs to be. Unlike a number of teen sitcoms before it, On My Block is in touch with the real world, and it’s unafraid to shove its characters into difficult situations at every and any moment—not just during special episodes. This authentic setup coupled with its very likable and well-drawn leads is sure to draw in viewers of all leanings.

Boots Riley established himself as a wildly creative voice with 2018’s zany anti-capitalist satire Sorry To Bother You, and with his second project, he digs his heels even deeper into that singular approach. I’m A Virgo’s world feels deeply uncanny yet intimately familiar, what with its absurdly militarised authority figures, dog-whistling media, and greed-driven economy. It’s set in Oakland, where 13-foot Black teenager Cootie (Jharrel Jerome) lives in secrecy with his normal-sized family. Frustrated, Cootie decides to venture into the outside world, but he’s soon exploited, projected onto, and demonized. However, it’s also not long before he makes his first friends, falls in love, and unlearns everything he thought he knew about the world.

The biggest revelation is that Cootie’s favorite superhero, an Iron Man-esque billionaire called The Hero (Walton Goggins), isn’t actually doing good by enforcing the law to the letter. Though it takes many weird and wonderful detours, it’s this aspect of Cootie’s consciousness-widening that is the show’s ultimate destination. These radical politics give it a sharp overarching focus, meaning its mind-bending eccentricity never feels too indulgent. It all makes for a refreshingly original, gloriously weird watch that you’re guaranteed not to have seen the likes of elsewhere.

With teen dramas crowding not just Netflix but all of TV, it’s easy to think that the Jordanian series AlRawabi School for Girls won’t be any different. But while it may share a lot of similarities with other coming-of-age stories, it stands out for its willingness to explore dark themes and cultural specificities without a pandering tone. It’s smart, mature, and complex enough to give us a feminist lead who weaponizes misogyny against other girls, for instance, or a fierce bully who eventually earns our sympathy. It’s hard to imagine the treatment being this sensitive, nuanced, and wholly engaging without the all-female cast and crew that AlRawabi thankfully has.

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

During adolescence, teenagers get to learn and discover themselves and the world, but for most people, this means going through puberty, maybe taking up a sport or hobby, and not the occult vs alien shenanigans of DAN DA DAN. The science fiction-fantasy mix is unhinged and chaotic, throwing Momo and Ken directly into the worlds they didn’t believe in, and with each crazy encounter, they gain insane powers that are rendered into (literally) out-of-this-world, kaleidoscopic animation. But it’s their comedic dynamic that makes the show work, as each absurd situation pushes them to share what makes them vulnerable and challenge each other on their beliefs. DAN DA DAN is spectacularly unpredictable, and is a standout from 2024’s anime fall lineup.

Co-created and co-produced by an amazing duo, Maya Erskine and Anna Konkle, who play fictional versions of their 13-year-old selves among a bunch of actual adolescents, Hulu’s PEN15 is a painfully funny teen sitcom about two friends going through middle-school together. With meticulous detail, it is set in the 2000s, including the discmen, the khakis, and the AOL dial-up sounds, but you certainly don’t have to be 30+ to enjoy the masturbation, boys, overall awkwardness, and other superbly spun teen comedy tropes. Erskine and Konkle’s middle-school experience was obviously all about being the lesser cool kids and they embody this to the fullest. It’s hilarious and cringey, sometimes gross, but also insightful. A lot of fun!

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.

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.

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.

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

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

This bittersweet comedy centers on Sam Fox (Pamela Adlon), a single mother and working actress doing her best to get by in LA. In between juggling the pressures of both parenthood and Hollywood, Sam lets loose in brave and funny ways. Things often get the better of her and her three young daughters, but her bold, funny, and always loving approach to life is what makes Sam—and indeed the show—a true knockout.

Better Things is a semi-autobiographical story, with Adlon also having daughters of her own, so it’s no surprise that many things ring true in this big-hearted show about single motherhood.

On the surface, The Makanai is a simple, slice-of-life show about food and friendship. While it is that, to be sure, it’s also a substantial drama that tackles questions about art vs. love, and love vs. companionship, and career vs. purpose. Under the gentle guidance of showrunner Hirokazu Kore-eda (Still Walking, Shoplifters, Broker), who generously allows up-and-coming directors to take the helm on certain episodes, The Makanai feels at once light and hefty, comforting and challenging. We’re seeing mundane events unfold before us as if we were bystanders, but we also understand that there is so much more happening than what meets the eye. A prolonged gaze, a lovingly prepped meal, an especially sharp wing-eye, all of these have much to say about the state of mind of these girls.

It’s a supremely gentle and culturally rich show with a tender heart; a truly great watch on all accounts.

Sweet Tooth is set in a post-apocalyptic America, where the population has been ravaged by a mysterious virus and the new generation of humans has evolved into animal hybrids. The circumstances are bleak and the things people do to survive even more so. Driven by fear and grief, they both isolate and attack in moves that are eerily reminiscent of the early days of our own pandemic. Sweet Tooth is a robust adventure story then, gritty and reflective and tragic, but it’s also incredibly sweet.

We’re introduced to a myriad of characters, each of them with their own arc, but we mostly follow Gus (Christian Convery), a nine-year-old human-deer hybrid who has yet to be disillusioned by the human race. Gus grounds the story’s many flights of fancy, and along with the other main characters, he gives us timely reminders of the importance of kindness and humaneness without ever being too corny. And to the show’s serious credit, no one plot line overpowers the other; instead, all feel just as vital to the larger story of survival that’s being told. 

The blend of these tales is lovely, the world-building is imaginative, and the technical aspects of it—the color, the costuming, and the cinematography—are all beautiful. Ultimately, Sweet Tooth is a packed a show wrapped in gorgeous layers, sure to delight even the most casual of viewers. 

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.

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.

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. 

The author of the much-loved New York Times bestseller, Sally Rooney, is among the writers of this TV dramatisation, directed by Irish compatriot and indie director Lenny Abrahamson. Abrahamson, who also gave us Frank and the film adaptation of Emma Donoghue’s Room, builds on Rooney’s fantastic source material and an evocative soundtrack to create an intense, atmospheric drama about the vitality and violence of young love.

Initially set in rural Ireland, Normal People follows Marianne Sheridan (Daisy Edgar-Jones) and Connell Waldron (Paul Mescal) as they are figuring out themselves, their connection, and impending adulthood. And that is all I am going to say at this point, because I feel that it is best to know as little as possible going in.

Every detail of every scene feels studied, laying bare the raw emotion of the two main characters. The dialogue is sharp and funny. The acting is flawless. One thing is certain, if you like modern drama that is as much about how and what is said as about what is actually happening, you will have to watch Normal People!