20 Best Miniseries on HBO Max

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.

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.

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.

If all live-action superhero media stopped here, it would’ve been a triumphant conclusion. Carving its own path from the subversive Alan Moore classic and still so much gutsier than most superhero films and TV shows, Damon Lindelof’s Watchmen miniseries continues interrogating the idea of powerful masked vigilantes to explore institutionalized racism, America’s history of anti-Black violence, and even the phenomenon of white supremacy in “nerd culture” fandom. It’s an incendiary take on a genre that’s all-too-often reduced to mindless fantasy action, and it never tries to beat other properties at their own game—relying on constantly building intrigue and fantastic characters to tell its story.

But even if you’re not familiar with the original Watchmen story, the series should have enough style and intricate plotting for everybody. A pulsating musical score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross; gritty (but not flavorless) art direction; and powerful performances from Regina King, Tim Blake Nelson, and Jean Smart, among others complete this vision of a nation plunged into chaos due to collective unresolved trauma. All this makes for viewing that’s never difficult, but demands trust and attention even as the story branches off to places that seem at odds with itself. How often can you say that about a superhero story these days?

The bizarre case of Kathleen Peterson’s death, which has yet to be fully resolved to this day, has been the subject of many a media article. The press covered it relentlessly when it all started in 2001, then a critically-acclaimed documentary was released in 2004. This was followed up with a sequel in 2018, and now more than 20 years after the deed, a dramatization has come out in the form of a miniseries. You’d be forgiven for thinking the latter couldn’t possibly have anything new to offer, but you would also be wrong. In fact, the series is a masterclass in storytelling. Led by an a-list cast (of which Colin Firth is the absolute standout) and told with such layered depth, The Staircase is a must-watch not just for true crime but for film and TV fans everywhere. 

Utilizing time jumps and crafty transitions, The Staircase isn’t set at one particular time, which is fitting considering the trial lasted for 16 years. It also isn’t centered on just the mystery or the family, but instead is just as interested in the making of the 2004 documentary that introduced (and humanized) the case to an even wider sect of people. If you’re looking for a neat ending or some form of satisfying retribution, you won’t find it here. But you will be getting an engrossing meditation on truth and its elusiveness

Based on Gillian Flynn’s 2006 debut novel, the two actors are showcased by director Jean-Marc Vallée (Dallas Buyers Club). Amy Adams stars as the troubled crime reporter Camille Preaker, who investigates a serial murder in her hometown after a stint at a psychiatric hospital. The second female lead is Patricia Clarkson, who stars as Camille’s oppressive mother, a small-town socialite. Uncovering the mystery of the city of Wind Gap, anti-hero Camille must delve into the town’s gruesome history well as that of her own family, while also confronting her trauma and self-harming behavior. This three-pronged plot and great acting makes for a tense thriller drama. A slow-burner without being slow—grim and disturbing—and one that also packs a lot of insight into the ramifications of abuse.

Regardless of being gay or straight in the 80s, AIDS has irrevocably shifted America in ways it long refused to acknowledge. The six New Yorkers at the center of Angels in America have their lives completely shifted due to the disease, but the way Tony Kushner weaves the disease into various social and religious concerns of the end of the 21st century, and the way director Mike Nichols translates Kushner’s brilliant play into a moving, yet comedic near six-hour miniseries proves how intrinsically linked these irrevocable shifts– the grief, the pain, and the need for hope– has been to the bittersweet progress America has made and has yet to make.

With the gorgeous period costumes, the romance, and the familial dynamics, you would think that Like Water for Chocolate’s latest screen adaptation would be just the same as the film, albeit with a Bridgerton-esque style. To a certain extent, this is true, as the essence of the novel still remains intact and the production is greatly upgraded, however, the added runtime allows this latest adaptation to expand on the novel’s commentary on race and class, and how this played out within the Mexican revolution that was mostly glossed over in the film. Como Agua Para Chocolate captures the novel’s much more rich and layered flavors, in much more fulfilling and scrumptious ways.

After the only war the Americans have lost, American post-Vietnam war portrayals tend to lean as patriotic revenge fantasies or romanticized disillusionment, but rarely do they portray the people caught in between. HBO’s The Sympathizer is an adaptation of the Pulitzer winning novel of the same name, and while it’s mainly an American production, Park Chan-wook and Robert Downey Jr.’s collaboration sticks to the Captain’s perspective, as the unnamed mole protagonist writes his confession years after from a jail in Vietnam. Chan-wook excellently mirrors his approach to Viet Thanh Nguyen’s agile storytelling, shifting time periods and languages the same way the Captain shifts perspectives, though Nguyen’s dry humor sometimes wavers when translated to the screen. Still, it’s certainly a well-crafted, ambitious depiction coming from a unique perspective.

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.

Most people take for granted that for the longest time, certain sectors of society had no one in their corner on screen, at least until someone bold and brilliant enough dared to meet the world on their own terms. Veneno is a series about the iconic titular trans TV personality, but it’s also a story about a trans journalist finding voice and her own gender expression through meeting La Veneno. It’s excellently structured, alternating between La Veneno’s beginnings and Valeria Vegas’ writing, and it’s just lovely to see the new faces of Spain’s trans community celebrate the woman that brought the community on screen.

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.

These days, pandemic stories can go either of two ways: horribly or profoundly. The realism may be too much to bear, causing so-called pandemic fatigue, or it can compel you to move in the world in kinder, more self-aware ways.

Thankfully, HBO’s overlooked Station Eleven falls under the latter category. Epic, poignant, and lighthearted, the ten-episode miniseries (adapted from the bestselling novel of the same name) is one of the few pandemic-set, post-apocalyptic shows that takes a closer look at the kind and creative ways humans approach survival.

This creepy miniseries stars Jason Bateman, Bill Camp, and Ben Mendelsohn. Based on the Stephen King novel of the same name, it follows an investigation into the horrific murder of a child where all evidence leads to the local baseball coach, Terry Maitland (Bateman). However, Terry’s demeanor and his shock when the police come to arrest him raise questions about whether he actually committed the crime. It’s a grim and slow-burning story with immaculate acting although it suffers from the thing it aspires the most to: the (not entirely satisfying) book. Created by The Wire writer Richard Price.

We Own This City is a six-part miniseries following the ins and outs of the Baltimore Police Department’s Gun Trace Task Force. Hailed by critics as the “spiritual successor to The Wire” (both shows were developed by David Simon), the gritty crime drama works as a smart and gripping exposé not just of the Baltimore police department, but of big and flawed institutions, in general, and the seeming inherence of corruption. The series is based on the book We Own This City: A True Story of Crime, Cops and Corruption by Baltimore Sun reporter Justin Fenton.

By imagining a plausible world in which World War II is avoided when an American populist president cozies up to Hitler, The Plot Against America becomes an effective allegory for all the ways well-meaning citizens gradually allow fascists to take power. Every perspective espoused by the Levins—a Jewish family grappling with the new president’s endorsement of anti-Semitism—is treated as just one partially correct response that’s ultimately just too little, too late. These ideological discussions that make up the heart of the miniseries are nevertheless filmed on a grand scale, and played with real fervor by an ensemble cast that includes Morgan Spector, Zoe Kazan, Winona Ryder, and John Turturro.

The last time Junji Ito’s work was animated by a Western studio, it wasn’t terrible, but it didn’t match up to the terror of his original stories. Nevertheless, animators persisted, and Production I.G. and Adult Swim’s attempt is a mini-series adaptation of the three volume manga Uzumaki. Uzumaki: Spiral Into Horror is a peculiar horror series, one that may not be downright terrifying with its small-town tale, but it’s much scarier than other Western adaptations with its faithfulness to Ito’s black-and-white intricate line work. There’s probably no other way to depict this particular story– after all, it’s all about spirals– but director Hiroshi Nagahama adds dizzying movement and composer Colin Stetson adds eerie extended techniques that match the terror Kirie and Shuichi share as they struggle against the neverending spiral spell that takes over their town.

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.

Sometimes thinking about your home state can feel complicated, because while it’s your home, the events and issues and controversies of the state can make people think differently of it. With plenty of controversies but also having the most residents, Texas does have a distinct cultural identity, and Texan native director Richard Linklater explores its different sides, including the sides unheard of, through the three-part God Save Texas. Teaming up with Alex Stapleton and Iliana Sosa, they tackle the Huntsville prison complex, the Houston oil industry, and the borders of El Paso, but they do so through a compassionate, personal perspective that simply and subtly shifts our understanding of the Lone Star State, and America as a whole.

Stylishly shot and perfectly paced, Spy/Master is the kind of political thriller that will have you pressing play on the next episode as soon as possible. It starts in media res, losing no time in backgrounders (the artful opening credits efficiently fills you in on Romania’s role in the Cold War) as we follow Victor Godeanu (Alec Secareanu) simultaneously serve the Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu, work with the KGB behind his back, and cooperate with the CIA behind their backs. There is a lot going on, but by keeping the focus on Godeanu, the series remains gripping through and through. I just wish that, at least in the first three episodes screened for review, the show delved deeper into Godeanu’s motivations for double-crossing and defecting. I get that it’s aiming for a brooding anti-hero in Godeanu, but there don’t seem to be enough heroic traits to justify that title. The show hints that he had a poor upbringing, leading him to learn how “game the system” at a young age: this is a potentially rich backstory that hopefully gets explored more in the future.