50 Best Shows Based on True Stories

The story is so jaw-dropping that it almost had to be put to film: steadily sawing through pipes and cutting through walls, two convicted murderers managed to break out of a maximum-security prison in upstate New York in 2015. The elegant and realistic dramatization was released by Showtime in 2018 and directed by none other than Ben Stiller in what marks his TV directorial debut.

The protagonists of this unlikely feat included the shrewd, boss-type felon Richard Matt (Benicio del Toro) and the much younger, excitable David Sweat (Paul Dano). You will hardly recognize Patricia Arquette in her role as Joyce ‘Tilly’ Mitchell, a married prison employee overseeing the sewing workshop, who supported and had sexual relations with both men. She rightly received a slew of awards, including a Golden Globe in 2019, for her stunning transformation and brilliant performance.

While the pacing of this somber thriller might be a bit too slow for some, the stellar performances of the main cast are enough to keep you on the edge of your chair. It’s a cinematic TV rendition of an unbelievable story and an engrossing view inside the life and minds of disenfranchised Americans.

Set in 1980s Hollywood, Winning Time doesn’t just borrow from the decade, it imbibes it in its very fiber. It’s dizzyingly fast-paced and dazzlingly glamorous, pulling out all the stops from the cinematography, which employs a hybrid of film and tube camera, to the all-star cast, which includes Sally Field, Adrien Brody, and Jason Segel. It’s a technical feat, but amazingly, it also excels as a character study for Lakers legends Magic Johnson (Quincy Isaiah) and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (Solomon Hughes), as well as the team’s charismatic owner, Jerry Buss (John C. Reilly). The writers go in-depth into their histories and weave a story so gripping, you can’t help but binge all 10 episodes in one go (and research the truth right after). If you’re an NBA fan, you might be disappointed to know that a big chunk of the script doesn’t adhere to real events, but you will no doubt be delighted to watch basketball in the way it was intended to be watched: riveting and nail-biting, with a lot of drama and glamor to match. 

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.

Though it takes place in New York at the turn of the 20th century, The Knick is not your typical historical drama. Set to a pulsating techno score and with a whizzing pace and kinetic camerawork, director-cinematographer-editor Steven Soderbergh injects the show with a potent sense of immediacy so that it never feels like a dusty history lesson. The two-season show is set in the titular Knickerbocker Hospital and tracks the intertwining personal and professional dramas of its benefactors and staff — led by Clive Owen’s arrogant Dr. John Thackeray, who works tirelessly at the bleeding edge of medicine, fuelled by his addiction to the then-medically-permissible cocaine.

Thack’s brilliant innovations and thorny personality take up a good deal of the show, but The Knick’s complex ensemble — from André Holland as the city’s first Black doctor to Cara Seymour as an Irish nun who secretly conducts out-of-hours abortions — are equally compelling. What’s more, the show is just as committed to lifting the events of its period out of the history books and into crackling life. With an unsparing eye, it weaves its way through modern medicine’s gory past and New York’s history with racism (both institutional and otherwise), corruption, immigration, and epidemics (such as that caused by “Typhoid Mary”). If you’re looking for a quaint, comfort period drama, The Knick isn’t it — but if you want to get your adrenaline pumping with a gripping, raw ride through history, your prescription is right here.

Dickinson takes more than a few creative liberties in telling the story of one of America’s greatest poets, Emily Dickinson (played here by the effervescent Hailee Steinfeld). As soon as the first pop song blasts in the background, followed by more than a few expletives blurted by the characters, it becomes clear that the series is more interested in making Emily’s life story not just understandable to a new generation, but timeless and universal too; it’s a tale about freeing oneself from the constraints of gender and society, and how regardless of whether you succeed or not, it’s the attempts that keep us human. 

The series is funny and tender and vivacious, kept afloat by its modern sensibility and desire to showcase a whole new side of Emily. Here, she’s a fighter, a (queer) lover, and an intellectual. But she’s also spoiled, narrowminded, and selfish—she is after all, still a growing girl. Dickinson succeeds on two counts: as an enlightening biopic, artistic license notwithstanding, and as an energizing coming-of-age series, complete with awkward epiphanies and inspiring character developments. 

“No one lives just one article or one headline of a life. There’s more.”

Last Call may be a true-crime docuseries, but it doesn’t pigeonhole itself as such; the advocacy for humanizing LGBTQ+ people is undoubtedly at its helm. The series expands past the context of each crime, giving testimonials and evidence of the lives, struggles, solidarity, and fears of the community. It acknowledges the efforts of the New Jersey State Police whilst shedding light on the inherent biases of society, law enforcement, and media when responding to crimes against gay people. Interviews with family members, detectives, and activists round out the narrative, ensuring that the lives lost are not forgotten due to shame, hatred, or sensationalism.

In Move to Heaven, a man and his son clean up after the dead—specifically, the dead who have no one else to look out for them. Believing that no one should be robbed of a respectable farewell, they piece together the deceased’s possessions and celebrate them postmortem. It’s a noble job, but its existence is threatened when the father passes away. It’s now up to the ruffian uncle with a heart of gold to continue the business and bond with his nephew, who himself struggles with Asperger’s. 

It’s easy for Move to Heaven to feel weighed down by all the important stories it tries to tackle; represented here are disabled people, depressed people, queer people, overworked people. But it breathes so much life into these stories that they hardly feel like the drag other shows and movies make them out to be. Tragedy here is expertly blended with humanity, and the result is a moving and compassionate series that stands out even in the saturated content space that is Netflix. 

With years of films depicting Italian crime syndicates, most focus on their leaders – the Dons, the Capos, and the Consiglieres. Most of them focus on the mafia’s men. However, in this series, it’s the women who are the stars of the show. Based on the novel of the same name, The Good Mothers is a compelling crime drama, focused on the women, not the men, of the ‘Ndrangheta clan. It’s from their perspective we see the mafia. The masterful way the series unfolds makes it clear that their lives are constrained, that this dated way of life still prioritizes the family over their individual women. It makes it all the more satisfying when they’re given the opportunity to retaliate, and when they choose to take that opportunity. And it’s so much better knowing that this was real.

A quick look at Anne Lister’s Wikipedia page will let you know that the English landowner lived a full life. She dutifully attended to her tenants, traveled widely, wrote frequently, and loved oh so deeply. With Gentleman Jack, a nickname Lister received during her lifetime, Director Sally Wainwright (Happy Valley) gives her story justice by telling it with sufficient skill and sensitivity. Wainwright isn’t afraid to explore her voracious sexual appetite, her intellectual rigor, and her at-times questionable stance on land tenure. Wainwright’s decision to make the show as much about Lister as the servants and tenants is reminiscent of dramas like Downton Abbey, which give us a fuller picture of life back in the 1800s. Though it can sometimes make the show tonally discordant (is this a lesbian erotica, a day in the life period piece, or a family drama?) it ultimately adds to the richness of the story.

Swagger could’ve easily been a generic sports drama about an ambitious prodigy who, against all odds and through sheer determination, makes it to the top. It is that, but it’s also so much more. Swagger offers biting commentary on race and economic realities, as well as heart-warming and relatable stories about family, love, and coming of age. It’s finely acted, with everyone from the kids and their parents to the coaches offering lived-in and realistic performances. The show is most reminiscent of the 2000 film Love & Basketball, which would make sense since the latter is directed by Swagger director Reggie Bythewood’s spouse, Gina Prince-Bythewood. Swagger and Love & Basketball have unique differences, of course, but both deeply understand and powerfully speak to the Black experience.

Sexual assault and trafficking are never easy to depict onscreen, especially when they’re based on true events, but Three Girls strikes a balance between realism and empathy. It’s gritty but never gratuitous, critical but never preachy. You can tell the cast and crew took their time to carefully tell this important tale, which continues to be overlooked by authorities in Manchester. As a result, Three Girls can be difficult and frustrating to sit through, but that only speaks to the quality of its acting and storytelling. Three Girls is a must-watch, but you’d be forgiven for not wanting to put it on a second time.

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.

This is Breaking Bad meets The Social Network. Based on a true story that took place in Leipzig, Germany in 2015, this show is about Moritz, a high-schooler who starts Europe’s biggest drug market online. He initially does this to impress his ex-girlfriend, who had just come back from the States with new drug experiences.

The transformation of a nerd into a drug kingpin is fascinating. But because it is based on a true story, there is an important nuance to that transformation. Moritz is rarely portrayed as a hero, and his creepy side is always present. This makes for an interesting and exciting plot-heavy show.  

Based on a forthcoming memoir by queer music duo Tegan & Sara, High School follows the twin sisters in ’90s Canada as they figure out their place in school, in family, and ultimately in each other’s lives. Despite the well-worn premise and the throwback setting, High School feels fresh and honest in ways that are not always present in teen stories. It’s delicate and subdued while still being potent and edgy—a great alternative if Netflix’s brasher teen fare isn’t for you. High School has been likened to other great authentic coming-of-age shows like Freaks and Geeks and My So-Called Life.

Though it primarily revolves around the conservative, anti-feminist Phyllis Schlafly (portrayed as a fascinatingly contradictory character by Cate Blanchett), Mrs. America is a true ensemble drama. Each episode becomes a primer for a different significant figure in the movement for women’s rights in the 1970s, but it also emphasizes how difficult it was for this movement to cohere. As these wildly different perspectives clash, the need for a truly inclusive and intersectional coalition begins to arise. Blanchett is brilliant as always, but the miniseries also showcases stunning work from Rose Byrne, Uzo Aduba, Margo Martindale, Tracey Ullman, and many more.

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.

As the real-life British politician John Stonehouse who, among other things, served as a spy for Czechoslovakia and faked his own death, Matthew Macfadyen is incredibly funny. He owns the role of the bumbling fool, a master at inducing laughs and sympathy at the same time. And with Stonehouse, he has endless material. The man is narcissistic and power-hungry, but he also has a habit of biting off more than he can chew, so seeing him stumble in his lies is both funny and tragic to watch. If I can use another metaphor—watching Stonehouse is like watching a train power through despite falling off the rails. It’s a wreck to be sure, but one you can’t quite peel your eyes from.

Another great thing about Stonehouse? It only has three (concise but jam-packed) episodes. So if you’re looking for a one-day binge, this might just be it.

As one of the biggest political scandals in recent memory, Watergate has had its fair share of film and TV adaptations. But while plenty fixed their eyes on President Richard Nixon and his men, only a handful focused on the surrounding but equally vital participants. Gaslit seems like an attempt to fix that—it’s a political thriller that looks at the affair’s forgotten players and examines how their seemingly trivial actions formed ripples and grew into the massive wave that brought a presidency to an end. 

One such player, the main one in this limited series, is Martha Mitchell, played to jumpy perfection by Julia Roberts. Previously dismissed as a hysterical gossip, here Martha is finally given her due as a political whistleblower. Sean Penn, Shea Whigman, and Betty Gilpin make up an all-star cast, but along with Roberts, it’s Dan Stevens who really steals the show. He’s a chameleon as junior counsel John Dean, deeply immersed in the character’s confused but well-meaning intentions. 

Another thing that sets Gaslit apart from the others is its self-aware humor. It has a bumbling quality to it—where others replay the infamous break-in with solemnity, Gaslit pokes fun at its absurdity. It’s a series that knows when to be serious and when to dole out the jokes, making it a finely balanced and refreshing political drama.

Bollywood is the biggest film industry in the world, in terms of output. After all, the Indian film industry churns out 700-800 films per year. Because of sheer output, there are plenty of excellent hidden gems from the South Asian country, some of which we try to cover here in A Good Movie to Watch. However, for a fairly comprehensive introduction to the industry, the English-language miniseries The Romantics is a great place to start. There’s no better filmmaker to take notes from other than Yash Raj Chopra, whose media conglomerate shifted the industry for the past 50 years, so the show tackles his legacy through archival footage and interviews from India’s current roster of film stars. Footage of his films alone are already a compelling watch, but director Smriti Mundra keeps an excellent balance between these films’ personal impact, as well as the corresponding political and film history in which his works were released to. It’s an excellent introduction to the colorful and rich film history of India.

It’s horrifying to think that there’s a sociopathic surgeon out there who, whether intentionally or not, is screwing up spinal operations so that innocent patients are either maimed or killed. But it is a reality that Dr. Death brings to the fore with great skill and sensitivity. The pacing is brisk, making it bingeable and frankly hard to put down once you start watching it. It also rightfully divides screentime between understanding the criminal’s motives, the system that allows it, and the people who are determined to put an end to this insanity. But the real highlight is how well-casted the series is. In season 1, Joshua Jackson is unnerving as Dr. Duntsch, while Alec Baldwin and Christian Slater’s buddy cop rapport makes the show more gripping than it already is. Season 2 guns for romance with Édgar Ramírez and Mandy Moore as conflicted lovers, and Lifetime-level cheesiness aside, it actually works to deliver something equally compelling as the first season. With Dr. Death, Peacock has built a worthwhile if terrifying anthology.

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 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.

In one scene, the main character’s husband looks at her with disdain after she makes an inappropriate joke –  “you are somebody’s mother!” She looks back with the same disdain – “I’m sorry, I forgot, moms aren’t supposed to be funny.”

Funny is a good word to use here, because this show is hilarious. Comedian Andrea Savage makes a TV show based on her life, or rather, that is her life (it’s a thin line). The show’s easy going tone is only interrupted by Andrea’s lack of consideration of what is appropriate.

Her jokes are heavy and offensive, and if you don’t mind either, so funny. They range from teaching her mom about unexpected sexual slang to trying a by-all-means approach to comfort her daughter’s fear of Nazis. 

Funny, natural and entertaining – I’m Sorry is a joy to watch.

The Dropout is an eight-part series about disgraced biotech entrepreneur Elizabeth Holmes, played here to eerie perfection by Amanda Seyfried. The show follows Holmes as she drops out of Stanford and pursues her dream to be rich and famous at any cost—even if it means swindling her way to the billion-dollar finish line.

With the facts of the case publicly available and a plethora of scammer shows already streaming on the internet, it’s a small miracle that The Dropout is still able to stand out as a compelling series. This is thanks in large part to Seyfried: she plays Holmes as a shaky, self-conscious, and hyper-ambitious magnate with little to no remorse, and it works. Even though Holmes is pretty much a cautionary household name at this point, The Dropout is still worth watching if only to see Seyfried’s thoughtful portrayal. 

Most Western queens come into power through marriage, but some of them come into power through their own birthright, ruling the kingdom as the one remaining heir. One such queen is Isabella I of Castile, whose lengthy reign is depicted in 2012’s Isabel. Like plenty of 2010s period drama series, it had the court intrigue, the costumes, the sets, and of course, the sex, but Isabel manages to stick more closely to actual history than other shows of the time. What helps is the one and a half hour runtime of each episode, but the source material is interesting enough that all the production needs to do is focus on the execution, which they have.

In Under the Banner of Heaven, Andrew Garfield plays Detective Jeb Pyre, a devout Mormon whose faith is shaken when he takes up a violent case that involves his church. When he discovers the gruesome death of a fellow worshipper and her 15-month-old child, he is driven mad by the choices he needs to make about his faith, his family, and the threat of fundamentalism these two pillars present. Terrifying and compelling, Under the Banner of Heaven is not for the weak-hearted, but it is recommended to anyone up for a good, challenging watch. 

To mere observers, a grudge can seem like just that: a grudge. Shallow, inconsequential, and probably fixable. But for those involved, the cut feels deeper and saltier, despite (or because of) its inexplicable nature. This maddening feeling is what Ryan Murphy both explores and honors in Feud, and boy does he go all in: vicious dialoge, prima donna veterans, stylish costumes, and period-accurate sets. But the real cause for celebration is the empathy he affords to both sides of the feud. There is delicious drama of course, which is what makes this as addictive and watchable as any episode of The Real Housewives, but there is also space for difficult feelings and contradictory ideals. Real archenemies can’t get enough of one another, like Crawford and Davis, and Capote and his swans. It’s that obsession that ultimately makes feuds, and Feud, utterly fascinating. 

Man on the Inside may be a detective show, but at its core, it’s a series about the beauty and pain of aging. It follows recently widowed Charles as he befriends the residents at a nursing home he’s secretly investigating for thievery. Despite himself, Charles opens up, which complicates the case but gives the story all of its heart. Not a lot of shows are willing to sift through the realities of old age, and even when they do they tend to focus (understandably) on the painful aspects of it–death, grief, sickness. Man on the Inside is a welcome reminder that there’s more to it too. There’s the freedom to be who you are, and family and friendships to strengthen. Man on the Inside won’t be the sharpest mystery you’ll see anytime soon, but it just might be one of the most poignant and heartwarming ones you’ll watch. It might also get you to call up an elderly loved one and check in on them, finally.

Mo is the semi-autobiographical tale of creator and star Mo Amer, whose tricky bouts with immigration, interfaith relationships, and growing up Arab-American all figure in the show. It’s a bittersweet series that brings the Palestinian and immigrant experience to the forefront—a tricky act that’s dealt with deft ease here. The series may be rife with social, cultural, and political issues, but there’s a big and heartfelt message at the center of it, and Amer tells it with genuine warmth and humor without ever being too self-serious and preachy, making Mo a breezy but meaningful watch.

Country music fans, rejoice: iconic musical duo Tammy Wynette and George Jones are given their due in George & Tammy, a six-episode musical drama that follows the eponymous couple amid their successful careers and not-so-successful love affair. 

Michael Shannon and Jessica Chastain play George and Tammy respectively, and if you watch the series for one reason, let it be for their superb performances. Chastain, ever the chameleon, slinks into her role with ease and charm, while Shannon booms in every scene, his volatility making for an exciting watch. If you aren’t familiar with the power couple and their torrid affair, a quick Google search will reveal that they’ve led very full lives, to put it mildly, and Shannon and Chastain thankfully match that energy with their own charged turns. 

Welcome to Chippendales is the bizarrely real story of how the titular strip joint came to be (it involves a lot more murder than you’d think). Kumail Nanjiani plays Chippendales founder Steve Banerjee, an ambitious man who will do everything in his power to become a renowned businessman. The series starts off hopeful as we watch Steve rise to the top, but it quickly descends into darkness once it becomes clear just how much he’s willing to give up for his American Dream. Part origin story, part murder mystery, and part 1980s period piece, Welcome to Chippendales is a surprisingly engaging watch that will keep you hungry for the next episodes. 

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.

After the ending of the show Suburra: Blood on Rome, it had seemed like there was nowhere else for the franchise to go, with plenty of the main cast dead. But after three years, the world of Suburra is back on Netflix in Suburræterna, and despite the chaos that reigns in Rome, there are still opportunistic survivors circling over remaining scraps of control. One survivor is Spadino Anacleti, who, after he had left for a more tolerant Berlin, is now forced to return home, with no other suitable heir for the family. While new viewers might be lost with the names referencing previous characters, fans of the franchise would enjoy the way Suburræterna unfolds, as the Suburra story, inspired by the real life Mafia Capitale, takes on a life of its own.

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.

First released in 1998, HBO’s From the Earth to the Moon is a fittingly epic series that captures the magnitude of NASA’s missions to the moon. It’s equally informative and dramatic, featuring more real-life characters than you can track and more information than you can sometimes process. Thankfully, Tom Hanks appears at the start of every episode to brief you through the events, and archival footages are smoothly inserted when they’re needed. In the first two hours alone, there are spectacular space flights (with finely aged CGI, mind you) and heated courtroom debates, with each episode operating more like a standalone film than a TV episode. The only downside comes in retrospect: when you’ve seen films like the devastating First Man (about the struggles of Neil Armstrong) and the revelatory Space Race (about the many achievements of neglected Black astronauts), it’s not hard to imagine a version of this series that’s less celebratory and patriotic, and more critical and true to life.

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.

While eschewing protocol is often rewarded in Hollywood films, in real life, this act can cost you your career, especially if you’re in the force like Detective Superintendent Steve Fulcher (Freeman). A Confession tells two stories, essentially, that of Fulcher’s legal entanglements after he successfully got a serial killer to confess without representation, and that of Sian and Becky, the slain victims in Fulcher’s case. Though the series is slow to start (it only picks up by the end of the second episode), it’s buoyed by fantastic performances and genuinely thought-provoking questions, the main one being, how far would you go to pursue justice?

Lockerbie is a devastating time-hopping journey that tells the story of how the UK’s deadliest terror attacks came to be and how the victims’ loved ones coped and pursued justice, despite all odds. It takes on multiple perspectives—political, psychological—and resembles many genres at once—thriller, mystery, drama. But more than anything, it’s a story about grief, trauma, and as the title suggests, an inspiring pursuit of the truth. at its core, it’s a story about grief. Swire’s family is traumatized, and they all cope in different ways. It’s about what people, a community, can do when they’re sad and wronged. They can band together and demand justice in inspiring ways. It’s moving, but it has teeth too. It takes down the apathy and the secrecy of institutions more interested in protecting their own than the greater good.

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.

When it comes to true crime series, it’s rare to hear of teenage girls participating in murder. But it does happen, on occasion, and one instance is now portrayed in Under the Bridge, based on Rebecca Godfrey’s non-fiction account of the murder of Reena Virk. As Virk goes missing, the show alternates between different perspectives, with Archie Panjabi and Ezra Farouke as Virk’s concerned parents, Chloe Guidry as foster child queen bee Josephine Bell (name replacing that of one of the real perpetrators), and deviating from the real case, Lily Gladstone leading the case as fictional cop Cam Bentland, and Riley Keough as Godfrey herself. With the number of shifts, it does occasionally feel like it loses focus, but the deviations make the introduction feel compelling, especially with the performances of the whole ensemble.

When Cristobal Balenciaga was in his prime, the courtier was lauded for his technique. More than anything, his dedication to the tiniest detail of dressmaking, not just design, made his sculptural dresses stand out. This titular miniseries about his years in Paris is made in the same vein. It has a strong foundational form, from smart camerawork and beautiful lighting to period-accurate backdrops and tight storytelling. But it has plenty of substance too as it’s clearly, and endearingly, in love with haute couture. Every scene is dripping with elegance, and every gown (even the supposed bad ones!) is so gorgeous that you must pause and take a moment to marvel at it. But perhaps the most impressive thing about the series is that it doesn’t shy away from history; in fact, it welcomes it fully, even the controversial parts of Balenciaga’s past. What we get isn’t a glorified icon, but a flawed human being who is all the more resplendent in his wholeness.

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.

Continuing on the 2021 film, which in turn, was the prequel to the Belgian-Dutch series Undercover, Ferry: the Series now delves into the titular mob boss’ start of his ecstasy empire. While the drug lord was suitably menacing in Undercover, Bouman in his beginnings is broke, trying to create bigger deals that would allow him to continue sustaining his small-scale drug pushing, and personally bumping with the cops in some botched buyings. As the future kingpin deals with day-to-day mishaps, there’s an old-school, lightly comedic tone as Bouman tries to gain the same respect he’ll get in Undercover. It makes for a goofier and less serious side on the all-too-familiar organized crime plotlines, and makes it a fun series to watch.

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.

Tragedy can strike at any time, but some instances are preventable, and rare is the instance where people do seek justice for it. After all, after losing so much, it would be awful to fight and lose again. But these instances do still exist, and one such incident is the Uphaar cinema fire. Trial by Fire depicts this tragedy, but rather than focusing on the fire itself, it focuses on the fight the victims’ families took in order to seek justice. The show doesn’t play out as a courtroom drama, it takes an intimate look into their day-to-day actions, faithfully portrayed by the excellent Rajshri Deshpande and Abhay Deol. And while the industrial giants depicted tried to file an injunction against this show’s screening, thankfully, Trial by Fire is still able to make its stand. It’s solemn and grim, but it’s a potent reminder of the power we hold as a collective.

With the stakes involved in plenty of cases, legal dramas tend to be more serious and dramatic. However, sometimes, ludicrous events can happen in these courts, and they have, in real life. Maamla Legal Hai may not be 100% factual, but the way they mix and match real life legal headlines gets into unexpected, hilarious ways, poking fun at how ridiculous the Indian legal system can be. It might shy away from the serious cases, but Maamla Legal Hai smartly depicts the legal ecosystem, from the wily higher ups, to the idealistic newcomers, with unique charm and witty humor.

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.

Becoming Karl Lagerfeld gets many things right—the fashion is spectacular, the drama is gripping, and the details feel true to the time. It’s never over-the-top and cartoonish, which seems to be a problem in most other biopics. But for all it has going for it, Brühl is the real star of the show. He seems to operate on a level beyond his peers where he’s no longer acting but simply inhibiting. Lagerfeld is a distant and wealthy designer, unavailable even to those closest to him, but Brühl manages to ground him with deeply relatable traits, like bitter jealousy, crushing loneliness, and unapologetic ambition. He doesn’t need a big scene or wordy dialogue to get these across, either, just a flicker of the eyes will do the trick. The only downside to the show is the occasional uneven tone. It’s as if the directors were unsure how to maximize the wealth of material they have on hand, so they crammed and juggled as much as they could into six episodes. Still, if you’re a fan of period pieces, powerfully subtle performances, and luxury fashion, then you’re in for a treat.