40 Best Dark Comedy Shows to Watch Right Now

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.

While best known for his provocative, existential dramas, Lars von Trier also made a provocative mini-series with surprising supernatural horror. Set at Denmark’s leading public hospital, The Kingdom takes familiar medical drama conflicts in handheld camera and sepia tone, but infused with an unsettling understanding of how the finest minds can fail, and how small science can feel in the face of the unexplained. That being said, the horror is much more wacky than spine-tingling or terrifying, but it’s played off through von Trier’s signature absurdism, taking a more humorous and sardonic approach. Riget may be an unexpected entry for those who have heard of von Trier, but it’s a must-watch for the auteur’s fans, showing a different side to the notorious director.

Every episode of Totally Completely Fine begins with a trigger warning, and rightly so—the show’s entire premise is about mental health, grief, and self-harm. Vivian, the lead (a captivating Thomasin McKenzie), is an orphan who goes on benders and ideates about killing herself. Things escalate when she inherits a cliffside house that doubles as a popular suicide spot and gains a prying (albeit good-natured) psychiatrist as a neighbor. All these elements, and a couple more, force her to confront her repressed trauma once and for all.

It sounds bleak, and it should be difficult to watch, but the show is a successful dark comedy. It strikes that rare deft balance between tragedy and comedy, highlighting painful truths with cutting humor and delivering jokes tinged with poignant insight. Vivian and her siblings are not entirely likable, but their brokenness and vulnerability make them all the more relatable, the perfect guides to hold your hand through this totally messy, completely enthralling, and finely compassionate show.

Things get pretty dark pretty fast in Vice Principals, which I suppose is to be expected from any Danny McBride and Jody Hill creation (the duo is behind shows like The Righteous Gemstones and Eastbound & Down). But if you can sit through its deep cynicism, then Vice Principals proves to be a ferociously funny show. McBride and Goggins are great physical comedians by themselves, but together, riffing off of each other’s hater energy, they’re glorious. They’re like The Office’s Jim and Dwight if they actually acted on their impulsive R-rated thoughts. It’s also just hilarious to see teachers and school administrators be their righteously angry, potty-mouthed selves for a change.

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.

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.

Every episode of Better Off Ted starts with a satirical commercial from Veridian Dynamics, a multinational that does just about anything: biotech, weaponry, food, clothes, furniture. A soothing, soulless voice narrates the ad as happy, empty stock footage fills the screen: they can get you anything you please as long as it pleases them more. Money before people, goes the company motto, and there seems to be nothing that can stop them from achieving this goal.

Except perhaps for Ted and his small research and development team. As the conscience of Veridian Dynamics, he mediates between his amoral supervisors and hardworking colleagues and sticks up for the little guy as best as he can. He looks for the slim silver lining in every project he’s assigned, but the hijinks that ensue are both silly and sinister, highlighting the inherent contradiction of ideas like “family company” or “work-life balance.”

Released in 2009 and cut short by ABC after its second-season run, Better Off Ted is an impressively prescient show that holds its own in a TV age obsessed with satirizing corporate culture. It tackles topics like racially-biased tech and meatless meat before they’ve even entered mainstream knowledge. It lacks some of the warmth and character depth you may be used to in typical half-hour sitcoms, but if you’re looking for something wickedly sharp, Better Off Ted is the way to go.

How far would you go to please the one you love? You might indulge your spouse with a white lie every now and then like the men in Swathi Shetty’s life each time she asks about her cooking, but Killer Soup takes it a whole step further when she asks Umesh to impersonate her similar-looking husband. And, as the lies pile up, and the cover-ups escalate, it’s delicious to see the lovers dig themselves into a deeper hole, even if they manage to throw off other people from the scent temporarily. While the story gets slightly convoluted later on due to many subplots, Killer Soup proves to at least be tastier than Swathi’s paya soup with its delightfully twisted lovers.

The American Dream thrives on people who work hard and dream big, even though success is almost never guaranteed. On Becoming a God in Central Florida points this out by brilliantly exposing how capitalist institutions exploit the desperation and naivete of those in need. There is, inevitably, a darkness to the story it tells, even though Krystal tries her best to outwit a system rigged against her. But showrunner Esta Spalding tells it with a campiness and magical weirdness that seems fitting for a show based in sun-soaked Florida. There is no shortage of incredible performances too from reliable veterans like Dunst and Skarsgård to relative newcomers like Théodore Pellerin, who plays the pyramid scheme FAM’s blind devotee. Not only does he hold his own, but his blind (and funny!) fanaticism often steals the show.

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.