100 Best TV Shows of the 2020s So Far

It sounds bizarre to say that out of all the superhero media out there, it’s a cartoon that seems to have the most realistic storylines. But it’s also true. Thanks to its serial format and animation style, Invincible has more freedom to explore universal feelings like guilt and pressure, but also problems that are specific to this world, such as the moral ramifications of killing for good, for instance, or whether there is such a thing at all. Superheroes also question how human they are and what they deserve. It goes in deep, a bit like The Boys but with less irony and more humanity. Also, it’s just a very refreshing world to enter, watch, and explore. There are overlaps in heroes to be sure, but Invincible gives them their own spin, plus the 2D animation gives it a nostalgic charm.

Some people can get totally desperate when it comes to their love life, but rarely does this desperation end up with summoning an ancient warrior princess spirit. My Undead Yokai Girlfriend plays on this desperation, hilariously juxtaposing modern day love troubles with an ancient demonic revenge plot, and the mix plays out in a fun and cutesy way, with Hachi understandably over-the-top stressed out over the fact he accidentally summoned and bonded with a yokai spirit that can drain his life force. As Hachi tries to solve this through smartphone technology and research, Izzy learns more about modern day Japan, all while they both evade Hachi’s police father assigned to investigate Izzy’s victims. It’s silly, but it’s fun, and surprisingly introduces Japanese mythology in an engaging way.

Upon first watch, it’s easy to relegate Fallout to the heap of video game adaptations that are all show and no substance. There’s the Twisted Metal adaptation that came out with zero fanfare earlier this year, and the Halo series that continues to divide fans and critics alike. Thankfully, Fallout escapes that curse: it’s genuinely good, not because it strains itself to remain faithful to the source material, nor because it strays too far, but because it builds on the existing world with plenty of imagination and original characters. These characters are complex, too, with conflicting morals that are challenged in interesting ways. Lucy is a principled do-gooder, but whether that’s because of her nature or privileged circumstance is continually questioned in the Wasteland. Maximus is a brave warrior you want so badly to root for, but his end-justifies-the-means approach complicates that urge. But probably the best thing about Fallout is its incisive commentary on the evils of capitalism. “The future is management” and “We are all products” are genuinely scary themes that could lead to the end of our world too.

Dark Matter may be a sci-fi series, the latest in Apple TV+’s ever-growing roster of the genre, but it’s tonally closer to the sexy, psychological thrillers that used to be so rampant in the early aughts. In the first few episodes, at least, it’s more invested in Jason’s relationship with his wife Daniela (Jennifer Connelly) and doubles as an interrogation of their marriage. Are they really happier together or do they secretly wish they could go back in time to reset their fates? Eventually, the series hews closer to its sci-fi foundations as Jason embarks on a nerve-racking journey to find Daniela and their son, Charlie (Oakes Fegley) amid infinite realities. It’s at this point where the show becomes truly exciting to watch: we see different (sometimes apocalyptic and other times utopic) versions of their life in Chicago and begin to wonder if a happy ending is still in the realm of possibilities or not.

Despite the abundance of true crime dramas, A Friend of the Family stands out because of how effectively frustrating (and, at times, nauseating) it is to watch. Broberg is abducted more than once in plain sight, and during the investigation of her case, officers encounter dark secrets and sick twists made even more unbelievable by how seemingly perfect the families involved are. Of course, the shocking true events are one thing, but the way they’re told by creator Nick Antosca and reenacted by a stellar cast that includes Anna Paquin, Colin Hanks, and Jake Lacy transform the horrifying true story into a disturbing work of art. Completing the picture is the show’s commitment to replicating the era as accurately as possible. Everything from the title cards, needle drops, costume, and color grading works to immerse you into the distinct world of 70s suburbia. Even the Peacock symbol was given the 70s treatment, which says something about the show’s dedication to the minutest details.

Before the documentary, I knew very little about Dr. Ann Burgess, and as I watched it, I realized it’s not because her contributions to history were so little (just the opposite, they’re incredibly important and far-reaching) but because Burgess doesn’t like to promote herself all that much. “There are too many things to do to be bothered by all that,” she says with impressive urgency at 87. Thankfully, Mastermind director Abigail Fuller distills Burgess’ storied career into three deeply engaging episodes for all to witness and enjoy. Here, you see Burgess standardize criminal profiling and help agents capture serial killers like the notorious Ski-Mask Rapist. You also see other sides to Burgess—the nurse, mother, mentor, professor, and advocate—and you start to feel frustrated on her behalf, because she should get way more credit than what she’s been given thus far.

Before he was a beloved TV star, comedian Alan Carr was a young boy growing up in a small town not quite ready for his shine. In Changing Ends, he takes us through that childhood, which is sometimes sweet, sometimes tough, but always comfortingly, relatably hilarious. By appearing in it and addressing us, present-day Carr ran the risk of being cheeky, explanatory, self-indulgent, and jarring—the 1980s setting is nice and nostalgic, why ruin it?—but his presence surprisingly works. It’s interesting to see the differences and lasting similarities between Young Carr and Old Carr. The former is naive and unrelentingly himself while the latter is worldly and reflective, and also unrelentingly himself. You don’t have to know who Carr is to enjoy this short but sweet entry (I certainly didn’t), you only have to recall that time in your life when you first started growing into yourself—how simultaneously awkward, painful, and exhilarating it felt.

High school can be an incredibly cruel place, but it’s not as systematically cruel as the Baekyeon Girls’ High School of the Pyramid Game K-drama. It’s a terrifying twist to regular high school bullying, as it doesn’t just allow kids to bully less popular kids, it creates accomplices, encourages bullying and also gives concrete numerical proof that there’s literally no one there that would root for you, including the adults that are supposed to do better. Creator Lee Jae-gyu writes this intriguing premise, crafting a mystery surrounding the beginnings and creation, as well as the stakes each student has with playing the game, which the cast plays with their roles in such a subtle, sinister way.

When Blackpink’s Jisoo starred in her first lead role, it was surprising that she chose a story like Snowdrop. Sure, at the time, stories set in the 1980s were a hit in Korea, with dramas such as Reply 1988 and Youth of May that nostalgically recreated the aesthetics of the time, while also re-examining the loss and the pain under the dictatorship then. Snowdrop does the same, but it adds a more controversial twist– the love story isn’t between innocent bystanders caught in the fire, it’s formed between a South Korean student and a North Korean spy. Writer Yoo Hyun-mi and director Jo Hyun-tak take this interesting premise to chaotic, unpredictable scenes, and it’s a fun ride, at least until the secrets he holds and the politics inevitably brings their childhood to heartwrenching ends. Seolganghwa isn’t a perfect drama, but it’s a story that understands how muddled and confusing the era got, and how much the country should avoid a repeat of state interests acting at the expense of personal freedoms.

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.