The 100 Best Miniseries of All-Time

Mike Atlas is a former police detective now living on the streets as he reopens a supposedly solved murder case with a rookie prosecutor living in her mother’s shadow. As they dig deeper, they uncover a sinister conspiracy that reaches deep into the core of the police and justice system. The series is well-acted, with Max Riemelt giving an outstanding performance of a troubled detective suffering from trauma, guilt, and regret. Now homeless, with gaps in his memories, Atlas uses his dormant detective skills to discover the truth from eight months ago and protect his now-estranged family. There’s never a dull moment as mysteries unfold from multiple angles and pieces fall into place as theories fall apart. Sleeping Dog is an addictive guessing game until the end.

Releasing a documentary and a mini-series on the same case on the same day, Netflix understands how compelling Rosa Peral’s story is. Burning Body dramatizes the case’s events, but it does so in a way that questions the police as an institution. With the case, it’s clear that the ones assigned to protect citizens from crimes are trained enough to hide their own. However, the series also underscores the blatant sexism in their ranks, from higher ups taking advantage of new recruits, to spreading revenge porn on their fellow colleagues. With Money Heist’s Úrsula Corberó on the helm, Burning Body paints a double sided look of a multifaceted woman.

Based on the Argentine novel, Thursday’s Widows is a Mexican Netflix adaptation about the shallow lives of the nouveau riche. While this adaptation changed its setting – it’s now in Mexico, long after 2001 – the series slowly reveals the ridiculous heights to which all of the affluent families would meet to achieve their luxurious lifestyles. As the series does so with one episode dedicated to each family, their absurd lifestyles reveal possible agents, motives, means, and opportunities that could explain the death of three husbands. It makes the series a compelling murder mystery, as it delves into the things only rich people could do without dire consequences.

The real-life Tapie may be more or less interesting than the Tapie Laurent Lafitte brings to life in Class Act, but that doesn’t really matter. The series introduces the French tycoon as if he were a completely new character, which is helpful to those of us going in the series blind. There is drama, there is scandal, and since Tapie is so tied to French life, there is also history. But more than anything else, there is business. Tapie is by no means perfect, but he is a smart businessman, and Class Act’s sharp and strong writing brilliantly conveys the addictive highs and soul-crushing lows of commerce. Narrative cliches are inevitable, but that doesn’t make this well-crafted series any less enjoyable.

Butter Man: The Slickest Mexican Thief has gone under the radar the same way the titular criminal has evaded capture for years. Which is quite a shame, because Él Mantequilla has the charming, slick style of heist films from decades past. Through eight parts, Emiliano Escamilla takes on multiple fake identities, five of which happen to be the main identity Escamilla takes on in each episode. It’s funny to see how Escamilla gets away with some of these disguises, especially when he gets away with pulling millions from oblivious rich people just by dumb luck. However, what makes these scams compelling is how closer these get him to his real goal: reconnecting with his father and finding out the truth. Butter Man turns the caper series into a drama centered on family, mixing fun nostalgia with some heart.

With a long and chaotic 30 years in the industry, it’s hard to encapsulate Robbie Williams’ whole musical career in a documentary. There are plenty of songs to tackle, plenty of scandals to explain, and Netflix tries to portray it all through its latest four part docuseries. Given its lengthy subject matter, it’s impossible to tackle everything, of course, so it mainly focuses on the artists’ mindset and mental health as Robbie Williams himself looks back at previous footage of himself. There’s some comfort in the fact that the singer now feels more settled in himself, something comforting in the idea that depression can be handled and overcome, but it makes this docuseries a fairly vulnerable one for the artist, and it’s an intriguing behind the scenes look for his fans.

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.

At a certain age, it can feel like starting over again isn’t possible, especially when all signs discourage you from ever trying again. Dr. Yehya of The Last Round knows this better than most– quitting kickboxing wasn’t an option, but a requirement, with his age and near misses and personal issues taking him out of the arena and into a low point in his life. But despite this, and despite day-to-day difficulties, The Last Round also portrays him getting back up, pursuing his dream one more time. It’s a familiar story, one we’ve seen in many sports shows, but with Ahmed Al-Sakka in the ring, and the careful characterization of the whole team that gets him there, The Last Round knocks our socks out.

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.

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.

Misunderstood by some at the time of its original release, this three-episode adaptation of Dracula from the creators of BBC’s Sherlock goes from being a highly satisfying slice of horror to something totally unrecognizable—which is why it’s so rewarding to revisit today. Blessed with stellar production design, incredible practical effects, and brilliant performances from a depraved Claes Bang (as the titular vampire) and an impossibly heroic Dolly Wells (Sister Agatha), the miniseries may take many liberties with the source material, but it always builds toward greater themes. And while some problems remain, like its rushed and tonally jarring finale, how the show is ultimately able to explore the distrust that Dracula leaves in his wake, as well as the nature of Dracula as a legend in himself, is well worth the binge.

Sports is undeniably exciting, but behind the scenes, there’s a whole world constructed just to get the players in the stadium, with sponsors funding expenses, clubs forming teams, and agents getting the players on track, whether that be through tough love or appeasement. Coppola, the Agent is centered on one such agent, the agent that handled the most famous football player in the world. Like the titular agent, the show moves at a frenetic pace, with Juan Minujín bringing to television Coppola’s fast talk and quick witted quips, and director Ariel Winograd mixing video formats and genres similar to 2022’s Winning Time. There may not be amazing goals, or outstanding plays, but Coppola, the Agent is compelling television, especially with Minujín’s fantastic depiction of the agent turned TV personality.

When adapting a novel, television showrunners have to transform the text into video, so sometimes, things get cut, lines get shortened, and sometimes what you and the author imagine from the book doesn’t match up on screen. Luckily, for Interior Chinatown, that’s not the case– the novel is already in a screenplay format, and the mini-series is being handled by the very same guy who wrote it, Charles Wu. The satire novel was pretty experimental, so it’s no surprise that the series holds the same playful energy as the book, but this time, playing with stylistic expectations (see: every time the faux leads enters a room) and genre expectations to create a meta levelling up quest for a background character to finally shine through. And with a stacked cast (Jimmy O. Yang, Ronny Chieng, and Chloe Bennet), the humorous plot cleverly challenges the ways Hollywood has excluded and stereotyped Asian Americans, and the way this plays out in real life.

With the fresh-faced cast and the sleek camerawork, Black Warrant, at first, didn’t seem to be the gritty adaptation of the exposé outlining the systemic corruption of the Tihar Jail in the 1980s. But, aesthetic aside, that’s precisely what Black Warrant is. Opening to Zahan Kapoor as Sunil Gupta being interviewed for the job as jailer, the show takes him and the audience to the tour of the notorious prison, and it’s a gripping one not because of the usual prisoner shenanigans, but because of the way the officers themselves happen to be in on the drugs and alcohol trade inside– and they’re ready to pin it all on Gupta if things go down. Showrunner Vikramaditya Motwane pulls it all together with excellent performances from the cast, an eerie score, and the real life headlines of some of India’s notorious prisoners.

Nolly is a three-part series following the titular British soap actress during her twilight years. Apart from being a biopic, the series also shines a light on how deep-rooted problems like ageism and sexism derail ambitious women like Nolly, all while offering an amusing glimpse into TV production. Since Nolly is a miniseries (and just a three-parter at that), things move pretty quickly, making it an easy watch if that’s what you’re looking for. The downside, however, is that the show fails to tie plenty of loose ends by the finale—which is a shame, because it introduces plenty of interesting characters and ideas, but only scratches their surface. With more time, Nolly could be a great show, but as it stands, it’s a good one featuring the always impressive, sufficiently outsized Helena Bonham-Carter.

This miniseries is based on a Margret Atwood novel and was also produced by her. The script was written by Canadian filmmaker extraordinaire Sarah Polley (Stories We Tell).

Grace is a poor but bright Irish immigrant in Upper Canada who is accused and convicted of a double murder. 15 years into her life sentence, a young American doctor is sent to try to get her out.

Daisy Jones & The Six is riddled with rock and roll clichés—sex, drugs, and alcohol abound—but the series has enough strengths to save it from sheer banality, the most prominent of which is the music. The original songs, performed by the actors themselves, are genuinely good. They’re true to the times and recall the likes of Fleetwood Mac and Buffalo Springfield, but they also sound fresh, modern, and invigorating. The showrunners seem to know this since each performance, whether onstage or in-studio, is given ample focus in each episode, and the show is all the better for it.

Aside from the stellar music, the show also has chemistry and production quality going for it. Riley Keough and Sam Claflin as the Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham of the fictional band are fiery and magnetic, while the authentic setting feels like an old polaroid come to life. 

Daisy Jones & The Six might not be for everyone, but if you enjoy musical dramas and nostalgia trips, then the show is a sure banger. 

In Love All Over Again has many of the romance tropes fans of the genre would enjoy. The star-crossed lovers, the gay best friend, the absent-minded but well-meaning parent, and the classic romance drama jobs are present in the series. However, unlike other series, the show literally starts off with a bang. The main couple don’t get separated because of toxic dynamics or tragedy, but literally because of the 2004 Madrid train bombings. But this isn’t just a one-off event, it’s the event that shifts Irene’s life forever, as she tries to heal and process the event as best as she can. Some of the series’ plot points may not be new, but it’s sincere in examining how that event affected people’s lives, without being overly dramatic. The resulting series is sweet and it captures the Y2K nostalgia that’s currently en vogue.

Child kidnapping is any parent’s nightmare, and it’s the nightmare that drives the events of Spanish crime thriller The Snow Girl. Based on the 2020 novel of the same name, the limited series takes a unique double-pronged approach to the case at hand. The show goes through the regular police investigations we’ve seen previously, but it also comes mainly from the perspective of journalist Miren Rojo, whose previous trauma understandably limits her trust with the authorities. As the show moves the story from New York to Malaga, and switches between perspectives, and timelines, The Snow Girl adeptly maintains the novel’s original suspense, without over sensationalizing the crime at hand.

Netflix is no stranger to adapting novels, nor to period dramas – Cigarette Girl is one of many, but it’s one from Indonesia that stands out due to its unique premise and excellent execution. Based on the novel by Ratih Kumala, the show is a slow-burn, smoldering period romance set amidst Indonesia’s kretek cigarette industry, booming in the 1960s, but it’s framed within the 2000s, where the man’s family uncovers his lost love before he dies. The alternating timelines keep the mystery fresh, as each new revelation uncovers what really happened between the two, as well as what would happen with the fate of their families. This intriguing structure, along with excellent writing, and stunning sets and costumes, make Cigarette Girl a compelling show to watch.

A Round of Applause is just so darn weird. We’ve seen stories about people remembering their past lives, but we’ve never seen them able to recall and yearn for their life as pulp in an orange, of all things. We’ve seen fetuses as characters, but we’ve never seen them as a neurotic chainsmoker, tugging at the umbilical cord in complaint. These strange, existential ideas get to amusingly absurd paths, leading to punchlines that aren’t expected but pulls out unexpected laughter while making us contemplate the lives we’re currently living. Even if the offbeat humor isn’t to your taste, A Round of Applause just feels so original that it’s worth a look.

Before Park Chan-wook adapted her novel Fingersmith in The Handmaiden, author Sarah Waters wrote Tipping the Velvet, her debut novel that painted the life of lesbian women in Victorian London. Surprisingly, this controversial novel was produced and broadcast by the BBC in 2002, sticking faithfully to the plot, with all the racy sex scenes and relaxed depiction of lesbian life that shocked the public at the time, but over the years, the miniseries has become known as the refreshing classic that shifted the way lesbians were depicted on screen. While primarily centered on white women, Tipping the Velvet changed the way Victorian sexuality was depicted, with the joy, sensuality, and happiness in Waters’ passionate narrative.

Who do our children become once they leave the nest and enter the throes of early adulthood? Who do our parents become when we finally leave them by their lonesome? Many films and TV shows try to answer one question or the other, but rarely both at the same, and not with the kind of nuance, boldness, and compassion Mrs. Fletcher has for its characters. That’s what makes this limited series so comforting to watch, regardless of where you are in life right now. And because it’s often so emotionally exact, it can also be painful to watch–well, painful but healing. Like how astringents heal sore wounds, Mrs. Fletcher is the satisfying sting that validates your innermost hopes, fears, and desires at 19 or 39.

Created by Harlan Coben (the crime novelist-turned-showrunner behind many streaming mysteries), Safe is a fast-paced thriller following a widower in search of his missing daughter. The more he digs, the more he realizes that his town is anything but small and sleepy, and that he can’t trust the people closest to him. It’s the sort of show that involves multiple people and plotlines, which could easily go south if it fell into the wrong hands, but Safe manages to make it all work. It doesn’t require you to care deeply about these characters, but it does pull you in with its shocking secrets and (at times frustrating) cliffhangers. Sure, it can get soapy at times, but it’s never not entertaining. And though it revisits the night of the disappearance often, it always features a new angle and point of view, making it feel fresh every single time.

Pitting two powerhouse performers against one another guarantees a gripping watch. Who wouldn’t want to see Reese Witherspoon and Kerry Washington (fresh off their respective stints in Big Little Lies and Scandal) go head to head? But Little Fires Everywhere is more than just a fiery soap opera. It’s packed with themes like race, motherhood, and womanhood. They’re brought to life by the two tremendous actresses, but the young actors are just as compelling, able to match their parents’ passion and theatrics. As in most soaps, the plot lines and details of the series can border on ridiculousness, and there are way too many time jumps than necessary, but its message is too important, and acting too heated, to look away from.

If you are a historian, a communist, a capitalist, a Russian or American citizen, you would likely already have opinions about the Cold War. But regardless of your knowledge on the topic, there’s no denying that Netflix docuseries Turning Point: The Bomb and the Cold War is such an ambitious documentary, dedicating a whopping 9 hours to explain the Cold War and its ramifications in such a comprehensive, well-paced way, trying to balance between various perspectives from all over the world. Of course, being from an American production company, it does slightly lean towards the American perspective, with some of the Netflix flair that you can see in their other documentaries. Nonetheless, The Bomb and the Cold War is a handy explainer to the history that still shapes many of today’s conflicts.

It starts off slowly, if a bit unevenly, but Black Earth Rising gradually finds its footing over the course of eight episodes. The series, a political thriller that takes a closer look at the legality of international war crimes, is led by the ever-commanding Michaela Coel and always-reliable John Goodman. 

As the Rwandan adoptee and legal investigator Kate Ashby, Coel attempts to reconcile her internal turmoil with that of the cases she’s tasked with. She’s at once indignant and empathetic, shut off and loving. She wants to be grateful for surviving a genocide and finding a home in the UK, but guilt is eating away at her. On top of the dangers that she faces as a refugee and investigator, Kate is also dealing with depression, and it’s a testament to the show’s skill that her condition is treated with as much thought and care as the other, more excitable aspects of the show. 

As Kate digs deeper into the mystery of who she is and exposes, along the way, the bloody involvement of different countries and institutes in African affairs, we’re forced to confront ethical questions (difficult but necessary) that stay with us long after the credits have rolled.

Ray is a captivating anthology series that pays tribute to the genius of renowned Indian filmmaker Satyajit Ray. With four distinct stories, each directed by different acclaimed directors, the series showcases Ray’s signature blend of human drama, mystery, and social commentary. The performances by the talented ensemble cast bring Ray’s nuanced characters to life. From tales of love and betrayal to stories exploring the complexities of human nature, Ray offers a rich and diverse viewing experience. With its engaging narratives, stunning visuals, and thought-provoking themes, there is bound to be an entry in the series for every mystery lover.

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.

Best known for his research in blue zones, Dan Buettner brings us to these communities through his new Netflix docuseries. Live to 100: Secrets of the Blue Zones is a short and straight-to-the-point miniseries depicting the five designated blue zones around the world. Detailing differences in diet, mindsets, and activities, the series obviously advocates for a certain type of healthy living, written extensively about by the host. However, rather than the host constantly lecturing about what he learned, the show is mostly composed of moments where he interviews the residents directly. The travelog feels more like asking your elders for life advice, more so than a longevity tip info dump, or advertisement for Buettner’s other books.

Released without fanfare outside of its home country, The Superfantastic Story of Balão is an intriguing documentary about the iconic Brazilian children’s group Turma do Balão Mágico. Through three episodes, four of its members share the story of the band, starting with their backgrounds all the way to the aftermath of their break up. In addition to the performers, other family members, producers, and certain personalities also lend their thoughts on the band’s success. The contrast between each interviewee’s accounts, with the performers’ differing from the producers’, and with the members’ varied accounts, is an interesting one, as it reveals how their different priorities shifted their experiences. While it would have been lovely to hear more of the music they performed, especially for viewers new to the band, it’s clear that the documentary was mostly made with the fans in mind.

Before, then, and now — these are the three points in time that twisty TV heist thriller Culprits zips between. That remixed chronology (the convergent point of which is an audacious £100 million robbery) is both a strength and a stumbling block for the series. While it helps liven things up, it also takes some getting used to, which means the first episode requires more effort than expected as we work to get our bearings. By the time we’re on Culprits’ wavelength, though, the other attractions of the show reveal themselves: an intrigue-infused plot, charismatic characters, and adrenaline-pumping action.

The one constant in this whirlwind is David (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett) — or Joe, or Muscle, all names he goes by depending on the timeline. A London-dwelling bodyguard recruited to undertake a mega-heist by shady mastermind Dianne (Gemma Arterton), we actually meet him long after it’s (seemingly) completed. Now living in Washington and sporting a just-passable American accent, he’s a family man who goes by Joe and bears no signs of his criminal past. Piecing together the puzzle of his transformation — and the threats that have somehow followed him across the globe — is Culprits’ greatest pull, one that wouldn’t be possible without its nonlinear storytelling, an initial hurdle that’s worth jumping over.

Knowing better than to dwell on its title character’s early life in bondage, Lawmen: Bass Reeves grants him his freedom early on and establishes him as a man of inherent dignity and complex emotion. Even in the first two episodes watched for this review, Reeves (thanks to a stellar performance by David Oyelowo) is defined by a wide range of relationships and skills—all of which is unified in the character’s realization that emancipation has not automatically led to peace, and that America remains a relatively lawless land. It’s all handsomely mounted, with high production values and a willingness to breathe through quiet moments that give its somewhat obligatory western action the gravity it needs.

With immigration being a vastly different experience across race, gender, and origin country, it can be easy to dismiss Amazon Prime’s Expats as just another melodrama about the rich, especially with the controversies surrounding its production. There’s some truth to this– two of the three leads live in glamorous, high-rise apartments bigger and more expensive than the standard Hong Kong shoe-box– but the show is much more than that. It grapples with the identity that must be remade for the move. It empathizes with the unresolved loss that haunts the day-to-day life of both mother and caretaker. And on top of that, Lulu Wang portrays how this grief-stained lens can still be short-sighted, when directed to those in the margins. Expats is a revelation with its slow and steady multi-sided portraiture.

It takes Monsieur Spade some time to settle into its skin. The first few hours are dedicated to introducing as many side characters and backstories as possible, and though this could have been more elegantly executed, it eventually pays off. The main mystery, once you get to it, is layered and complex, and watching Spade physically and verbally spar with Philippe is its own kind of reward. Their curt but cutting dialogue harkens back to past noirs, and it’s a delight to see that tradition live on in the genre.

Everyone grows up learning about the theatric death of President Lincoln—while enjoying a play with his wife, the actor and Confederate soldier John Wilkes Booth shoots him straight in the head, dashes to the stage, and escapes into the wilderness before eventually getting caught. But most people tend to gloss over that last part when, in fact, Booth’s capture was a wild ride that involved the rabid participation of thousands of troops and civilians. Ironically, it united a nation that was still grappling with the loss brought by war. Through seven episodes, Manhunt zooms in on that moment in American history and closely follows the cat-and-mouse chase between Booth and Secretary of War Edward Stanton. It’s a powerfully performed piece, as one would expect from Emmy-winning actor Menzies, but the surrounding characters are just as colorful and impassioned. They capably bring life to a near-forgotten piece of history and make it feel just as urgent and important as the day it happened.

After the likes of The Favourite six years ago, modern historical portrayals have now become more interested in the salacious side of real life deceased nobles, focusing on the sex, gore, and violence, so it’s unsurprising that James I, who was unpopular in part due to his alleged homosexuality, would eventually be depicted. Mary & George depicts this from the perspective of those who sought his favor, and while it is one of many of these modern period pieces, it is well done, with fantastic performances from the cast, and all the costumed social climbing that we enjoy. Mary & George is just great television.

After more than a decade apart on-screen, Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna finally reunite in La Máquina. While they maintained their friendship off-screen, it’s just so fun to see them take on a more comedic dynamic as they snipe at each other, get into trouble, and scramble to get things right. It’s the best part of this series, and with Gabriel Ripstein’s direction, the series is never boring, continuing to move in unexpected directions with swiveling camera movements and such a slick score. While there are some issues with the pacing, La Máquina is fun to watch, especially when focused on their leads.

Given the seven year success of the original serial killer show, it’s no wonder that Showtime wanted to continue the franchise, spawning off a prequel as a third installation in Dexter: Original Sin. It’s not a terrible idea– after all, how does a serial killer get into killing the way Dexter does? But fans of the original series would inevitably compare this prequel to the original in all aspects, from the 90s vibe, to the new cast members, to having too many flashbacks for a show that’s already a prequel series. Original Sin would be intriguing for viewers who have never watched the original, but the prequel would certainly divide some fans, with some finding it would tide them over till Resurrection and with others finding the series too repetitive.

Revenge stories are always fun, especially if you have someone like Jella Haase (who plays the titular spy Kleo) to helm them. Haase switches from scorned to spritely with such ease, making the otherwise formulaic plot of the show a breeze to watch. The disguises, the getaways, the killings, and the chase are all expected but nonetheless enjoyable in this show. 

If you’re looking for the next Killing Eve, this just might be it. Aside from the leads’ cheerfully deadly ways, the two shows also share the similarity of having enemies obsessing with each other, resulting in a cat-and-mouse chase that’s hard to peel your eyes off from. 

Domestic abuse is a delicate matter, and onscreen depictions always run the risk of being either too sensational or mopey. The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart, thankfully, is neither. It sensitively and creatively tells the story of Alice and all the other survivors who June shelters on her flower farm. More than just decor, these flowers serve as a lifeline to the girls: not only do they grow and sell them to earn a living, but they’ve also made a special secret language out of them. Different blooms mean different things, and when you live in a world where your pain is systematically ignored, it makes sense to communicate in hiding. Granted, the Lost Flowers of Alice Hart can get overly dramatic at times. Some plotlines include hiding who the child’s real father is and fighting to get custody of said child. But it’s unfair to dismiss the series as mere melodrama. It’s doing important work by shedding light on the manifold ways women are mistreated, and it does so in a commendably original and artful way.

With its unique viewpoint of World War II, Transatlantic places a slick, old Hollywood spin on the historical rescue network Emergency Rescue Committee (ERC). Like the novel it’s based on, the miniseries takes real-life ERC members and writes them into love triangles and affairs to keep interest in the team, occasionally name dropping the famous European intellectuals helped by the committee. The glossy treatment of their wartime efforts prove to be absolutely stunning, if a bit broad. While the show can occasionally feel spread thin over its multiple storylines, the series uses classic Hollywood charm to remind viewers of the multiple refugee crises all over the world, through the one crisis everyone can recognize.

Based on a novel, A Perfect Story feels like a classic, straightforward romcom series. All of the elements are familiar to fans of the genre – running away from a wedding, bar meet-cutes, and fake relationships – but there’s a certain charm whenever these familiar elements show up. The show alternates between the timelines of Margot and David, taking its sweet time in the first episode before their timelines merge. And when they catch each other’s eye, it’s easy to root for these well-meaning characters looking for their match. While the story could be easily condensed into a film, the length allows the main duo to delve into a slowburn, friends-to-lovers romance.

Today’s child pop stars have a lot on their plate. On top of the already strenuous touring schedule, they have to deal with the fact that every move they make can be recorded, saved, and spread online just to cause their own downfall. Brazilian popstar Luisa Sonza grew up with the spotlight, and at the ripe old age of 25, has gone through two messy break-ups, a nude leak, and a racist controversy, all while creating two of her most captivating albums so far. If I Were Luisa Sonza portrays her at her most vulnerable– through the creating process, and the team meetings, and the doctor visits– but also at her most defiant, as she turns her scandals into art. The resulting intimate documentary might just be one part of her life, as she declares, but it’s just the precise viewpoint from this generation’s artists that is needed to question what it means to be a young artist in this day and age.

The Little Drummer Girl starts slow, but it’s hard to peel your eyes away from the screen when it finally kicks into gear in the third episode. Every frame is packed with style, for one, and Le Carre’s espionage maze reliably thrills for another. Paired with Park Chan-wook’s eye for detail, as seen in modern classics like Oldboy and The Handmaiden, and with Pugh’s all-in performance, The Little Drummer Girl feels a bit more premium than the usual spy thrillers on TV. The elephant in the room, of course, is that this is all set against the backdrop of the Israel-Palestine conflict, manifested here in back-and-forth terrorist and assassination attempts. In this aspect, the series can be quite toothless, though it accurately highlights the hypocrisy of armchair activists like Charlie. “All right, I’m superficial, I get it!” she claims when pressed about her conflicting politics.

The HBO series The Undoing looks a lot like the prestige miniseries that comes on TV these days. It has an impressive budget, heavy-hitting leads (among them Nicole Kidman, Hugh Grant, and Donald Sutherland), and a self-serious tone that is partly commanding and partly absurd. You’ll have a hard time picking it out from the rest of the HBO and Showtime dramas that follow this same template. But while it’s not as distinct or as exciting as it could be, it is undeniably gripping thanks to the compelling performances and the wisely cut cliffhangers. You know where the story is going, but the fine acting and jolting twists cause some doubt, which alone makes for great thrills.

The series follows three perspectives: a government official, a Tokyo Electric Power Company employee, and a worker at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, each with their respective teams tackling the aftermath of the March 11, 2001 earthquake and tsunami. From the reporting updates to the public to the dedication of first responders, ‘The Days’ excels at piecing together the macro- and micro-decisions that went into saving the residents of Fukushima. The series deepens the narrative to be more than a mere recollection with its scenes of the families of the victims and the residents as they evacuate their homes. Its steady pace, emotional close-ups, and suspenseful score capture the harrowing atmosphere of Japan’s worst natural disaster. 

This British miniseries is about a group of teenagers who tell a five-year-old who is following them to go home. The boy disappears mysteriously but 20 years later, when the teenagers are all adults, his DNA surfaces in a crime scene.

Somewhat formulaic or perhaps just overproduced, the show is ultimately enjoyable as the sharpness of the source material by famous author Harlan Coben quickly takes over.

1990s Los Angeles was both glamorous and seedy, and it’s this murky territory that filmmaker Lisa Nova (Rosa Salazar) enters as she tries to make her movie dreams a reality. Lisa is ambitious and polite enough—if not a bit naive—but when she gets screwed over, she enlists the help of a mysterious stranger (played to witchy perfection by Catherine Keener) and, together, they brew their revenge. Things then take a turn for the supernatural in this ambitious, eerie thriller that will surely sate any David Lynch fan’s appetite. 

With the current deluge of biopics streaming, it’s easy to overlook Clark, Netflix’s fictionalized take on Clark Olofssonm, from whom the term “Stockholm Syndrome” was coined. Bill Skarsgård, Hollywood’s favorite onscreen creep, returns to his native Sweden and plays the titular criminal with such feverish passion that it’s impossible to take your eyes off the screen.

The delirious editing (bordering on excess or camp, depending on your taste) also makes it quite the standout among all the sober real-life adaptations. Clark will surely be hit-or-miss for most people, but its riskiness alone is enough reason to watch. 

Though relatively low on scares, this three-episode Indian miniseries fully believes in horror of a different kind: governments that indiscriminately call anybody terrorists if they try to think for themselves. Set almost entirely in a military interrogation facility, Ghoul wastes no time telling us who the real monsters are, never making the mistake of making the victims appear morally questionable. When the horror finally kicks in, it feels like satisfying karma—but always with a lingering reminder that a greater evil is still out there. So while its runtime may be perhaps too short, its promise of righteous revolution is something many people around the world just might need to hear.

Mexico City, 1970. Héctor Belascoarán leaves his stable office job and beautiful (but unhappy) marriage to pursue the adrenaline-filled life of a private detective. The police are useless, Héctor points out, not to mention corrupt and often in on the crime, so it’s up to him to tackle the many unsolved cases that haunt the city he loves.

Because he thinks himself a hero, Héctor narrates each episode in that nostalgic noir way, but the catch is that he is, in fact, no slick savior. Hector is still a rookie, prone to blunders and miscalculations, but his perseverance saves the day. In this way Belascoarán, PI is both a tribute and a sendup of detective films of yore; it references the genre in style and substance, but it isn’t above joking about it either. It’s proof that you can challenge viewers without sacrificing the laughs, and vice versa.

Directed by Steven Soderbergh (Oceans trilogy, Erin Brockovich, and more recently, Kimi), Full Circle is a twisty and stylish noir that takes a while to grasp, what with its epic ensemble and sweeping storylines, but once that first thread of connection is made, it becomes a series that’s very hard to leave. Each episode leaves you excited for the next, which in turn ups the ante even more. Soderbergh is in his element, and aided by a stacked cast of veterans and newcomers alike, he turns in a series that’s expertly tense and watchable throughout.

Less medical drama and more spy bromance, The Patients of Dr. Garcia is a new perspective on World War II Spain. Starting from the Spanish Civil War, the country is torn between the Republicans (“Reds”) and the fascist-aligned Nationalists. The titular doctor, a liberal Republican, hides the wounded spy Arroyo in his quarters, much to the disapproval of Garcia’s Falangist lover. Arroyo later pays back this favor by forging a fake identity for Garcia, but invites him to his mission to infiltrate Nazi escape routes. The overall plot, with its steady pace, political details and ever changing forged identities, can feel overwhelming, especially for those unfamiliar with Spanish history. However, the stunning cinematography, divine sets, and unexpected plot twists make the espionage series compelling to watch.

Like the biopics of other musicians, Love After Music tracks the life of Argentine rock-and-roll musician Fito Páez. From his beginnings as a band keyboardist in 1977 to his 1993 solo concert for UNICEF, the mini-series delves into the themes and inspiration that drive his work through eight episodes. As Páez performs, the series flips between the song being sung and related flashbacks from Páez’s life, implying how Páez feels through images instead of dialogue. This approach can feel confusing at times, but it makes this account of his life a more personal and experiential biopic. Fans of the Latin Grammy Lifetime Awardee would most likely enjoy this series, however, for audiences unfamiliar with the singer, like myself, it’s still an interesting series to watch.

Based on the 2021 Turkish series Fatma, Unseen takes the same premise and sets it in Cape Town. Fatma is now Zenzi Mwale, a house cleaner looking for her missing husband, despite how everyone else already wrote him out as a deadbeat convict. Mwale, portrayed by Gail Mabalane, is a sympathetic character, and Mabalane’s restrained performance earns empathy each time her search leads to certain dead ends (pun intended). Even as the show goes into generic territory, the house cleaner’s journey still feels compelling, as the series has a great grasp as to how this thriller’s tropes work, especially for a character whose work and worries mostly remain unseen.

African Folktales Reimagined is exactly what it says in the tin. The anthology isn’t exactly a cohesive, one-plot show – it’s a collection of folktale-inspired short films from six different countries, by six different filmmakers, funded by grants from a rare Netflix-UNESCO partnership. As such, the collection features a variety of genres and styles. If you like Westerns, you might want to watch Katera of the Punishment Island. If you’re into Afrofuturistic sci-fi, try watching Halima’s Choice first. Into supernatural stories? Watch Enmity Djinn. Katope and MaMlambo lean more on the fantastical side of the folklore, while Anyango and the Ogre feels like a straightforward drama. It’s a fairly varied collection, and there’s something here for everyone. African Folktales Reimagined takes a modern twist to the folktales that shaped the continent.

“This is a work of fantasy but to fantasize is to be human.” This quote is placed at the beginning of Creature, a passion project brought to life by writer-director Cagan Irmak, now available on Netflix. Inspired by Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Irmak reimagines the monster resurrection concept without sticking to closely to the original plot points, crafting a narrative that jumps back and forth between two separate timelines – the past, with Ziya’s rise in medical experimentation, and the present, with the titular creature rescuing a dying man. It makes for a historical drama that may not be as horrific as the original, but is no less intriguing in its themes.

The 1984 Bhopal gas leak is the world’s worst industrial disaster, and with the success of HBO’s Chernobyl, YRF Entertainment partnered with Netflix to create a miniseries based on the event. The Railway Men: The Untold Story of Bhopal 1984 is a compelling watch, with four fictional protagonists that serve as composite characters of real life heroes in the tragedy. Even as the viewers know what will happen – the case details are available online and the show’s first moments reveal the outcome – it’s still a powerful depiction of the preventable tragedy, as the show recognizes the personal consequences through their heroes. While the narrative does sometimes lose balance, and the certain effects falter, the series carefully depicts the preventable chaos with an anger over the injustice that still remains unresolved.

Most people wouldn’t think that math is a transferable skill to the culinary arts, and in reality, it probably is. Fermat’s Cuisine disputes that, as Gaku Kitada makes the unique career shift from becoming a mathematician to becoming the head chef of the restaurant. While most people (ourselves included) won’t really understand what kind of calculations he makes in order to succeed, it’s easy to sympathize with Gaku’s troubles as he tries to make a new start. It’s also an intriguing mystery to try and figure out what happened between this start and his later success. Choosing a career path, finding a good mentor, and trying to learn something new are things everyone goes through. Fermat’s Cuisine confidently suggests math is the answer.

With stories like Gone Girl and the true crime boom of the 2010s, it’s easy to believe that these depictions are harmless– fake crime stories are fictional, after all, and surely, it’s important to discuss real crime in order to prevent it. New Netflix docu-series American Nightmare portrays a real life case itself, but it questions the impact these stories have towards real life. It depicts what used to be called the “real life Gone Girl” kidnapping, whose investigation and media speculation was colored by these stories, which hindered Huskins’ rescue. The case eventually led to the real culprit, but American Nightmare challenges the viewers themselves, as it stretches the case across three episodes, portraying each angle in the true crime flair we’re used to speculating with.

The true crime genre tends to sensationalize cult leaders like these, but Daughters of the Cult takes a more journalistic approach towards Ervil LeBaron, the leader of a splinter Mormon cult group. Primarily showing interviews, archived media, and blurry, out of angle re-enactments, the docuseries doesn’t exaggerate, knowing how horrifying the story already was, but it’s no less emotional as it comes from the perspective of the family this cult leader has tormented. Daughters of the Cult isn’t easy to watch, but it’s definitely a sobering, grounded perspective in a sea of colored cult crime depictions.

Stories about cults have fascinated viewers because of how absurd their ideas can get… And how easy these ideas can lure in lost and broken people. Plenty of these cults tend to stick with ideas that sound similar with the world’s major religions, but not many claim to be able to clone humans. Raël: The Alien Prophet plays out like the regular cult playbook, with a regular man suddenly amassing riches, power, and fame through charisma, and abusing his followers to obtain more, but the show keeps the viewers’ interest by primarily focusing on what sets the movement apart: the aliens and the human cloning.

The way we are introduced to sex does shape the way sex features in our lives, whether that be an unintended glimpse into the wrong room, or an accidental encounter to NSFW media, or a proper discussion towards sex. Being inspired by, but not entirely accurate to the life of prolific Italian porn star Rocco Siffredi, sex is central to Supersex not just as his job, but as the way his family, relationships, and his concept of love is irrevocably affected by it. It’s fixated on sex, yes, but showrunner Francesca Manieri stirs the discussion not towards how hot it can be, but towards the various ways sex affirms and negates his masculinity, as well as the conceptions that determine that, and how it can slip into vice rather than healthy pleasure. There are moments where the series falters, particularly the way it depicts internalized homophobia, but overall, Supersex is a well-meaning exploration of sex work and masculinity.

After wars and revolutions, there tends to be the nostalgia of the “good old days”– days before the terror and violence have completely and irreparably changed one’s course, whether that be of one’s life, or that of a whole country’s. A Gentleman in Moscow displays that same nostalgia for aristocracy and their way of life before the October Revolution, with Rostov remembering the old days through the classic aspect ratio. It’s a decently made show, and it’s helped by casting Ewan McGregor, who brings the same sort of whimsy he brought to Christopher Robin, and the impeccable soundtrack from Federico Jusid. It’s also helped by expanding the role of Anna Urbanova, performed by Mary Elizabeth Winstead. But this nostalgia feels a tad out of place, considering that nothing about the show, except perhaps some of the score, has been created by any Russian, or those that descended from the Russian immigrants that wanted a different life from the Bolshevik regime.

Backed by Netflix’s deep pockets, Eric looks as good as any prestige miniseries out there. As a portrait of pre-gentrified New York, it feels so detailed and lived in you can almost smell the garbage cans collecting in the corner. And this seedy atmosphere ties well with the show’s dark themes and complicated mysteries, making Eric far from the worst thing you could watch on the platform. But there’s something about Cumberbatch’s Vincent that makes him difficult to follow. Perhaps his performance is more excessive than the script calls for, or perhaps his anti-hero character is too underwritten to sympathize with. Or maybe it’s both. Whatever it is, he’s not a strong enough lead to pull the series through, though thankfully, he’s surrounded by far more interesting and involving characters, particularly Hoffman’s Cassie and Belcher III’s Ledroit. If you’re looking for a serious thriller filled with compelling (if at times overdramatic) performances, Eric is your weekend show.

Not to be mistaken with the American animated series, Big Mouth is titled the way it is not because of raunchy banter between its characters, but because the lawyer protagonist Park Chang-ho spouts big talk without having the means to back it up. It’s because of this unusual characterization that makes it such an unusual crime thriller, with wildly unpredictable turns that got so many viewers guessing and that the showrunners clearly had fun playing around with, with every terribly unlucky direction Park ends up taking. That being said, while its set-up was so exciting, Big Mouth is much like its protagonist in that the series promised a big story, but winded up with an underwhelming finale that didn’t meet expectations. Even so, Big Mouth is a hilariously intense, if a bit nonsensical, ride, especially for fans of the cast here.

Released earlier in 2023, Lady Voyeur is reminiscent of those 80s-90s erotic thrillers that you or your parents weren’t allowed to watch, albeit with a modern hacking subplot. The Brazilian Netflix mini-series balances its erotic and its thriller sides– with Eros ruling the consensual scenes, and fear powering the mystery of Prado-Couto families. Relying on mirrors, CCTV cameras, and window reflections, the show follows the titular protagonist Miranda, seeing and being seen, as she gets roped into a conspiracy against her fling’s best friend and hotel conglomerate. It’s an interesting watch, though it lacks a tighter resolution to all its plotlines.

After decades of terrifying tales, it’s no wonder that Junji Ito developed a cult following internationally, big enough for a streaming giant like Netflix to invest in a brand new adaptation. Junji Ito Maniac: Japanese Tales of the Macabre is fairly faithful to its source material, keeping the plot points of supernatural beings and spine-chilling body horror in its selected twelve tales. That being said, being an anthology, the selection in Junji Ito Maniac greatly varies on how scary it is. On top of this, the series’ art style, made more cleanly for easier animation, is simply less scary than the black-and-white, shadowy sketches from the original manga. New and younger viewers might still get a thrill from the latest anime rendition of Junji Ito’s stories, though older fans might find that it pales to the original.

Steven Soderbergh’s second TV show of 2023 — which was only announced a few days before its release — is a hopeful dystopian one. Command Z, which comprises eight short episodes totaling 90 minutes, is so named for Apple’s “undo” shortcut because that’s exactly the purpose of the show’s time-travel mission. In 2053, a tech billionaire (Michael Cera) who uploaded his consciousness to the cloud before dying on his way to Mars recruits three employees to make a few tweaks in the past to divert Earth off the course that led it to its nightmarish current state. The idea is that, by implanting themselves in the minds of those nearest to potential change-makers — like the daughter of a Big Oil CEO or a politician’s aide — they can convince their targets to take action and prevent the city-high sea levels and Hazmat-requiring pollution of 2053.

Though frequently humorous in its satirical vision of the future, Command Z doesn’t mess around, virtually breaking the fourth wall at every opportunity to prod us to do something. If the tone isn’t quite as polished as it could be — or if the production value sometimes feels slapdash — it’s all befitting of the urgency of the message it’s begging us to heed before it’s too late.

Command Z is available to stream here for a one-time fee of $7.99 that is donated in full to Children’s Aid and the Boston University Center for Antiracist Research.

Rap music originated in the African American community, but internationally, there are local music industries diving into the genre, including countries in Africa as well. Kenyan music drama Volume puts theirs on the spotlight, through up-and-coming artist Benja trying to make his way. But the show isn’t just about a musician’s dream– it’s about the crew that surrounds him too. There’s his friend Castillo whose crime and influencer girlfriend can make or break his career. And there’s his girlfriend Lucy, who’s torn between her support and her religious family. Writer-director Tosh Gitonga balances their respective subplots well, able to maintain its watchability through its understanding of the stakes. Volume might be a familiar story, but it’s still an entertaining watch, because it understands how this dream can be tough to reach coming from a rough neighborhood, and how tough it can be to keep this dream pure and unadulterated.

Based on an arc of the classic Space Age manga, Phoenix: Eden17 reimagines the future of space exploration into a contemplation of human nature. While the show’s pacing speeds through its plot points within four episodes, each reveal feels gut wrenching, as Romi consistently has to deal with changes in Eden, Earth, and what happened to her loved ones. Modern-style animation is used, but inspired the original style of its time, creating a modernized version of the original mangaka Osamu Tezuka’s stunning images. But it’s the series’ ideas that make the show unique. Greed, betrayal, isolation, and human error causes all the disasters in this show’s universe, and even when you know it’s coming, it’s still hard not to feel the devastation the characters feel. Despite being based on a manga created decades ago, Phoenix: Eden17 still feels like an entirely singular work. Given modern animation, the ideas of the father of manga feel like it’s something never seen before.

It would be unfair to demand the same things out of The Continental that the John Wick film series already does so well. And this three-episode prequel definitely works as its own animal; even if you haven’t seen those increasingly elaborate Keanu Reeves movies, this miniseries easily finds a whole group of sympathetic characters worth rooting for and builds to a series of exciting set pieces full of personality and excellent choreography. The groundedness of The Continental’s ensemble of heroes emerging from the seedy streets of this fictionalized 1970s New York works surprisingly well against the arrogance of the show’s villains. And the world they all inhabit is rendered just as slickly as in the films.

But in its search for an identity of its own, The Continental becomes a reminder for why the John Wick movies work so well—and why this series just can’t capture the same spark. Those are simple, primal movies that contrast Reeves’ stoic, mythic protagonist against a bizarre world of colorful enemies. The Continental, in contrast, borrows from many hardboiled crime dramas but never actually provides any insight into the systems or rules that govern all the factions involved. Individual characters may achieve their goals by the end, but it’s ultimately hard to see how they add to the grander ideas of revenge and redemption at play.

To give credit to this three-episode documentary series, it succeeds in presenting a dynamic, three-dimensional portrait of ’80s hair metal beyond the scene’s glamour, guitar solos, and yes, all that hair. And it’s certainly interesting to think about such lively, over-the-top music and visual aesthetics from the perspective of musicians and executives who struggled in the sidelines for so long, or who were only ever seen as replacement artists or female versions of more popular bands. But aside from a number of enlightening stories (mostly from Vixen vocalist Janet Gardner and record exec Vicky Hamilton), the series is just too simplistic and conventional an oral history that also never establishes the foundation of what hair metal is in the first place, and how the genre is unique from other styles of metal. It feels like the story of any other genre of music, which it absolutely shouldn’t be.

With the source material being a Pulitzer winning novel, All The Light We Cannot See had high expectations. Plenty of what made the novel great was its straightforward prose, as well as its back-and-forth timeline, where each scene is arranged not by chronological order, but by the thematic logic that informs the characters’ actions. The new Netflix adaptation keeps the novel’s structure, however, the novel’s poetry is lost as the metaphors are shortened to its most cliché versions, and the showrunners couldn’t trust that the viewers would acknowledge the novel’s subtleties. While the cast does what it can, the show just feels like a missed opportunity to tell an excellent story.

As has become increasingly common among Disney-Marvel projects, there’s plenty of culture and character at the heart of Echo—that all gets flattened by the franchise’s usual action-thriller formula. In its first two episodes watched for this review, the miniseries doesn’t develop the titular hero as much as she deserves, but it does sketch out the image of a community deeply rooted to its past, trying to forge past its unfortunate criminal connections. But these episodes end up concerning themselves far too much with more of the same types of dimly lit set pieces and hand-to-hand fights. These sequences may be cleanly shot and choreographed but they’re ultimately just as uninspired as they’ve been for a long time, upholding the status quo within this dull superhero world.

Following the success of the Aníkúlápó movie, Netflix Naija has followed up the fantasy film with a sequel series, Rise of the Spectre. Like the original film, it showcases Yoruba culture with its excellent production design, and incorporates some familiar fantastical elements, like Saro’s resurrection. The premise is also pretty interesting, as it directly deals with the spiritual consequences of the first film. However, the show has less of the resurrection powers being used, with less time seeing the fantastical crow that grants Saro’s powers, and more time dedicated to dialogue heavy scenes that are tough to follow without watching the first film. Aníkúlápó: Rise of the Spectre has less of the fantasy we hoped to see.

At first glance, Irresistible doesn’t have the toxic ex-relationships, love triangles, or melodramatics known in the romance genre. As the main couple meet organically, and they’re able to share their ideas about love, the series had a promising slow-burn romance, that might be dialogue-heavy, but could possibly give out insights that any viewer would benefit to hear from. However, the casual way the protagonist Adele gets diagnosed with PTSD makes it feel like an insincere depiction of the disorder. And knowing that the male lead Arthur is married, and that they have such a casual fling, makes it hard to care if they’ll end up together. While there’s something that could be said about certain types of healing happening only through a relationship, Irresistible’s approach doesn’t seem to be headed that way, especially when it only has six episodes to tackle its nuances.

Shaitan is a Telugu crime thriller series that follows the story of a family caught in the crossfire between the police, the Naxal movement, and the political establishment. Through the eldest son, Baali, we see the struggles of poverty on the decisions forced upon them; crime often being the only option they can afford. The series is dark, violent, morally ambiguous, and not for the faint of heart. It is a dark exploration of the human capacity for violence, often calling attention to the mistreatment of the working class for capitalistic gain. While it is a main staple of the plot, it becomes laborious to engage with every episode. The show excels in its immersive reality but sells itself short on a more fulfilling narrative.

With an unusual premise, unique characters, and surprising writing, the original 2010 Megamind film had a genuine message all about accepting one’s self, and doing good despite the lack of acceptance, even as a big-headed blue alien. After 14 years, Dreamworks has released the series Megamind Rules! as sequel to the hilarious superhero comedy, naturally dealing with his journey to maintain his hero status, with a new villain to defeat every episode, along with a main plotline of increasing his influence through social media. There could have been a funny thread here, showing how careers have become fodder for content, as well as the contrast between evil habits he once had versus the heroic ideals he hopes to espouse. However, the series pays out in the most generic fashion, without any of the heart or timing the original film had that made it so compelling.

Netflix is no stranger to murder mysteries, having a whole catalog of films and series in the genre from around the world. Because of this, it can be hard for lesser known, non-English titles from the streamer to get their work noticed, and we at A Good Movie to Watch try to find the best of these hidden gems. Unfortunately, Hard Broken is not one of them. The latest six-episode Lebanese series feels rushed, often containing plot points that don’t make sense, with stock characters that feel so one-dimensional. With the quality of other murder mysteries on the platform, it’s strange that Netflix decided to produce this series.