100 Best TV Shows of the 2020s So Far

Each episode of the medical show The Pitt follows an ER team over the course of an hour. There are no time jumps or montages, this is real-time for them. Countless patients come and go, their injuries ranging from terrifying to deadly, and whether they live or die depends on how fast the team responds. Leading everyone is Dr. Robby Rabinavitch (Noah Wyle), who is himself recovering from the trauma of losing a colleague during the COVID pandemic. However, unlike Grey’s Anatomy, the drama of the characters in The Pitt takes a backseat to the patients’ issues. That’s not to say we don’t get to know the characters well, just that the writers have very smartly and subtly found a way to integrate who they are into what they do. Much like the medical staff who front it, The Pitt is a highly efficient show. We experience a roller coaster of emotions and get what feels like a lifetime’s worth of medical exposure in a span of an hour. It’s intense, chaotic, disturbing, and at times even triggering. But it also feels essential to watch. It’s a welcome reminder of our mortality and the humanity needed to keep it at bay.

Arabella is a Twitter-famous writer from London who has one night to submit a draft of her second book. She gives herself an hour’s break that night to go out for a drink with a close friend. When she gets back, she realizes that far more than one hour had passed, that she had blacked out, and that she had bruises all over her body. Like the excellent Chewing Gum, the BBC/HBO miniseries I May Destroy You is a Michaela Coel one-woman show: she is the showrunner, the writer, co-director, and leading actress. And whatever Coel touches, she makes it personal and without compromises. I May Destroy you is based on her experience of being sexually assaulted while making Chewing Gum. To make sure she told this story right, she turned down a $1 million deal from Netflix over creative ownership. It is not only dizzyingly told and brave, but also original and funny. A timely drama if there ever was one!

The White Lotus follows a group of vacationing tourists in Hawaii who, in their wealth and entitlement, get into some pretty horrific (but largely entertaining) mishaps. It’s always fun to satirize the rich, but what really gives The White Lotus its edge is a brilliant understanding of the trickle-down dangers of privilege. We’re made to witness the uncomfortable ways in which the service industry twists itself to accommodate the guests, and how time and again these efforts are lost to the upper class. Biting, witty, and relevant, The White Lotus effortlessly stands out in the recent slew of class consciousness content.

The best thing about The Rehearsal—Nathan Fielder’s elaborate Russian doll of social experiments and self-examination—is how seamlessly it goes from prank comedy to surrealist horror. The show’s concept of staging situations where real people can practice making an important decision (complete with actors playing all the background characters) pays off in spades. Fielder’s insistence on over-preparation collides beautifully with the unpredictability of human behavior, leading to some of the funniest and weirdest interactions to grace TV.

But the greatest trick that The Rehearsal has up its sleeve is Fielder, playing a version of himself using this show to understand how to live a meaningful life. As he stretches these rehearsals beyond their limit (at certain points, recreating his own rehearsals with someone playing himself), his character’s persona also begins to crack. Suddenly the series isn’t just a comedy, but a poignant reflection on empathy and forgiveness, and a psychological mind-bender about an egomaniac who refuses to give up control of reality itself. There’s nothing else like it on television.

Industry has all the markings of an HBO show: an abundance of sex, drugs, alcohol, and sure enough, an inextinguishable affinity for the F word. Like Succession, The Sopranos, and even Euphoria before it, it revels in its freedom to explore the nitty-grittiest parts of its subject matter and put its gruesome findings on full display. But instead of capitalism, organized crime, or teenhood, Industry incisively takes on hustle culture.

Through the eyes of four new hires at a premier investment bank in London, we see the dangerous means people put themselves through in order to achieve some semblance of respect, recognition, or at the very least stability. Bullying is rampant, hazing is normalized, competition is encouraged, and blind loyalty is rewarded. The characters are so flawed and damaged, you’ll often find yourself rooting for their demise. But you’ll also be glued to their arcs and storylines. Will they break the cycle of abuse or continue it? Can they actually change the system from within or does that remain a utopian dream? These questions are hardly charming, but Industry has a way of making them engaging, exciting even. It fully inhabits the meanness you can and should only enjoy behind the safety of a TV screen.

When Elle Fanning and Nicholas Hoult play power-hungry monarchs, what else more is there to say? The actors are very much in their element here, having already perfected similar roles in many films prior (one of them being The Favourite, which was co-written by The Great’s creator). They are the picture of elegance and royalty, and we need no convincing that they can hold 18th-century court.

Which is why when The Great takes us into its true, crude depths, they transform from simply credible to incredible. Aided by a wonderfully offbeat cast and the one-two punch of a hilarious and raunchy script, Fanning and Hoult deliver splendidly.

To be sure, this satirical show is not always funny. Sometimes, it takes dark turns to underscore the cruelty of the era, and other times it is genuinely moving in its drama. But this revisionist take on Russia’s Last Empress will always be a ball to watch, if only to see the artifice of aristocracy be stripped off and mocked with acerbic wit and might.

Asura is a very particular period piece about the typical, rule-following Japanese family in the 1970s, and yet it feels universal too in its tales of family, marriage, and above all else sisterhood. Based on a novel by Mukoda Kuniko, Asura captures the frustrating, odd, exhilarating, and reassuring specificity of having a sister. You could be in a severe argument one second but laugh about an accident in the next. You could get mad at your sister for staying in a toxic relationship while offering her a place to stay and promising not to judge her in the same breath. And as we witness the dynamics of these four sisters, we also get to see the relationships they pursue (or run away from) all while trying to stay afloat amid Japan’s rigid societal rules. “Is it happiness for women to not make waves?” their mother asks. The entire series sees the women try and fail and try again to answer that all-important and ever-relevant question.

Sci-fi is already a pretty wild genre. Anything can happen in this fantasy world, so it takes a special kind of skill to make a new entry seem original once more. But Pantheon throughout its eight-episode run manages to be just that thanks to its resonant storytelling, inventive editing, and brilliant, heartfelt premise. 

The scope of the story is as wide as it is wild: it’s about the unregulated rise of “uploaded intelligence,” after all, where human minds are fully uploaded and digitized for corporate use. Global tech companies are in an arms race to transform this discovery into weaponry, as they are wont to do, without giving mind to the human and environmental costs. Challenging them is the unlikely duo of Maddy and Caspian (Katie Chang and Paul Dano, respectively) who, as direct victims of this greed, have more than a few grievances to express. 

It’s exciting to see how far the dystopia of Pantheon goes, but anytime it flies too high, it’s always grounded by the fleshed-out humanity of Maddy and Caspian. The series runs on their self-discovery and existential crises as much as it does on extraordinary circumstances. Expect to shed a tear or two while watching this series. 

What if the UK’s MI5 was run not by sleek secret agents, but rather, a bunch of second-rate, hand-me-down spies? Slow Horses gives us a taste of that as it centers on Slough House, a division of MI5 that serves as a detention center for their smart but hopelessly damaged goods.

In this six-part miniseries, the Slough House agents reluctantly exchange their humdrum duties for a big and unexpected case. Led by the eccentric Jackson Lamb (a very funny and effective Gary Oldman), they track a group of Right-wing terrorists and their hostage before it’s too late. With its brisk pace, endearingly bumbling characters, and deft balance of suspense and humor, Slow Horses might just be one of the finest thrillers out there.

Plenty of things go on between love and separation, marriage and divorce. There is the pleasant high of intimacy, the devastating low of heartbreak, the frustration of misunderstanding, and the bliss of friendship. Fleishman is in Trouble explores all this from the point of view of recent divorcees Toby and Rachel Fleishman, but interestingly, this POV is narrated by their friend, Libby. The result is a multifaceted take on love, entertaining and enlightening in its nuance. Based on the bestselling book by essayist Taffy Brodesser-Akner, the series is also strikingly written. Whether it’s Libby’s storytelling you’re hearing, Toby’s witticisms, or Rachel’s dagger-sharp remarks, prepare to cry and laugh in equal measure.  

In a case of perfect casting, Jesse Eisenberg plays the neurotic Toby, Claire Danes his unhappy wife, and Lizzy Caplan their quick-witted friend. Other sitcom greats make appearances too, like Adam Brody and Josh Radnor, making Fleishman Is in Trouble highly watchable on all fronts.