15 Best Quarter-Life Crisis Shows to Watch Right Now

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend starts with a very familiar setup. A girl leaves town to follow a boy she loves, and along the way, she picks up a best friend who blindly supports her, a rival who gets in romance’s way, and a second guy who, little does she know, loves her for who she is. That girl, Rebecca Bunch (played by writer-creator Rachel Bloom), is our romcom hero, and she knows it. She views life as one big musical movie where she’s supposed to get the guy and live happily ever after. 

Except, in real life, things are never as simple—and people never as one-dimensional—as that. This confuses Rebecca, who then goes out of her way to craft the perfect happy ending, even if it means hurting people (including herself) along the way. 

In a series of wackily addictive songs, playfully subversive twists, and heart-aching breakthroughs, we join Rebecca as she learns to overcome her demons and live in the real world. Her journey to self-awareness and self-love can get frustratingly slow and surprisingly bleak, but it’s also deeply comforting and reassuring. 

Watch this if you’re interested in subversive takes on love, affecting female friendships, genuinely catchy tunes, proper mental health representation, and seeing reductive stereotypes, the “crazy ex-girlfriend” just being one of many, fleshed out and reclaimed with great aplomb.

Imagine if Showtime’s survival epic Yellowjackets was a comedy, and being stranded with your high school friends resulted not only in ethical and moral dilemmas but a lot of witty banter and major bonding as well.

Then you’d have something like Class of ‘07, an apocalyptic series with the irreverent humor of many millennial shows out there. It’s every bit as funny, addictive, and deep as you’d hope it would be, with the show excellently blending bleak circumstances with quirky jokes and hopeful epiphanies—kind of like how The Good Place manages to make a breezy comedy out of death and the afterlife. In fact, Class of ’07 is reminiscent of many comedic gems, including Derry Girls in its all-girls setup and Bridesmaids in its female-forward crassness. And like both stories, Class of ’07 offers heartwarming insights into the power and perplexity of female friendship.

Be that as it may, Class of ’07 is a distinct charmer. This Aussie show is delightful, hilarious, and utterly watchable in its own right.

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.

Sabi, a genderfluid millennial in their mid-20s, is in a bit of a quarter-life crisis. Between balancing odd jobs, leaving a clingy boyfriend, and coming out to their family, Sabi just doesn’t have enough time to think about their identity, whatever that may be. Sabi is accused of being guarded, and indeed, in the first couple of episodes only we the omnipresent audience are privy to Sabi’s crying spells and panic attacks. To everyone else, Sabi is the calm and collected friend who loves to help everyone but themself. 

Sort Of follows Sabi as they navigate adulthood, family, love, and self-expression in tender and funny ways. It has the slice-of-life vibe of shows like Better Things but with an even more low-key charm. Never in-your-face and always grounded and humane, Sort Of’s twenty-minute episodes make for a delightfully meaningful binge.

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.