100 Best TV Shows of 2023 So Far

It’s difficult to describe Mrs. Davis without sounding a little bit insane. It is, after all, a sci-fi series that takes on the spiritual and the technological with an irreverent tone. It’s hilarious and action-packed, meta and ambitious, and it’s all led by a devoted nun taking down an all-knowing AI. 

Believe me when I say there’s nothing quite like it at the moment, and it gets major props for being truly out of this world. But Mrs. Davis doesn’t get by on novelty alone. It’s a balanced piece of work, impressively stable despite the weight of all it’s trying to be, and it soars as both a satire, a thriller, and a genre show. It also keeps you guessing with each new scene, so if you like to be kept on your toes at all times, then this funny, fantastical, and wholly absurd show will surely be an enjoyable watch.

Initially, The Change’s premise might seem as eccentric as its kooky characters, but this comedy series set in ancient woods makes a compelling case for itself over six short episodes. When Linda (writer Bridget Christie) is diagnosed as menopausal, it triggers a flash of clarity: she’s tired of being reduced to “wife” and “mother.” Depressed by all her ledgers recording every second she’s spent doing unappreciated housework, Linda decides to reclaim a few thousand minutes, and takes off on her motorbike to the Forest of Dean to look for the time capsule of cherished belongings she hid there as a child following her mother’s death.

Because this motivation is only explained later, the show has a somewhat perplexing beginning, but a couple of episodes in, it finds its footing. The Change makes sharp punchlines out of boorish man-children — and, although it has varying success getting laughs out of its more bigoted characters, it does decenter them and dole out acceptance to the overlooked, making it refreshingly divergent from “topical” comedies’ usual flippancy. The spiritual link it draws between its apparently unrelated focuses — menopause and the natural environment — adds to its originality and empathy, making this a comedy of untypical thoughtfulness.

With teenage insomnia rates increasing worldwide, it’s a wonder how a story like this hasn’t been made until now. Insomniacs After School takes a charming approach to this issue– viewing it not as a reason to shame the youth over but just as an unfortunate circumstance that requires support. In this case, it’s heartwarming to see how support comes from the school community. While restarting the astronomy club may not be sound medical advice, it’s clear how valuable the school observatory is as a safe space for Nakami and Magari. It’s uplifting to see the school nurse, alumni, student council, and fellow classmates root for the club and their events. Most of all, it’s comforting to see Nakami and Magari help each other with their insomnia. Their shared comfort and support, along with the backdrop of Japan’s most photographable night skies, make this slow-burn romance anime incredible.

The OVW are practically nobodies outside the pro-wrestling scene, and they know it. They describe themselves as a “third tier” that trails behind more well-known companies like WWE and AEW, with one manager even likening their team to an indie film. If the WWE and AEW are Michael Bay movies, he says, then the OVW is like the highly-rated but little-seen movie The Squid and the Whale. But though their underdog status is bad news for their dipping financials and fanbase, it makes for a compelling story in Wrestlers. The docuseries pulls the curtains on the OVW and acquaints us with the owners, managers, accountants, and of course, the wrestlers, who are all struggling to keep afloat this act they love so much. “Wrestling is the art of physical storytelling,” CEO Al Snow says, and it’s clear that director Greg Whiteley believes him. He captures the OVW lovingly, intimately, making us privy to their highs and lows, celebrations and disagreements, and everything in between. He never forces us, either, but rather invites us to this world as naturally as possible. You may start watching this knowing very little about the OVW, but you’ll leave knowing and caring about them a little more. 

From Happy Valley and Line of Duty to Luther and Sherwood, the BBC has produced some of the finest police dramas in recent TV history, and Better is a worthy addition to the roster. It’s not as refined as the mentioned shows, but it’s grounded by a riveting, morally conflicted performance by Fazard. The breakdown of her conscience, the constant negotiation between obligation and survival, the road toward redemption—Fazard embodies it all with rugged grace. It’s not often we get the point of view of a corrupt cop, and when we do, we rarely see them with this much screen time and backstory. Better is an okay crime thriller, but it’s even better as a character study of the well-meaning, desperate, and brilliant Lou. 

From the title alone, A Murder at the End of the World is, of course, a murder mystery, a whodunit set in an isolated location, a la Agatha Christie. But the second TV collaboration of showrunners Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij infuses amateur forum-based sleuthing, with contemplation of technological dependence and on human connection. It does so through two plotlines: one, following the investigation at the mysterious, icy tech retreat, but the other one follows how the connection between the investigator and the victim began, in the warmer tones of the Midwest. The resulting back-and-forth leads to a delightfully addictive mystery held up by the incomparable Emma Corrin.

When life gets tough, especially without money or opportunities, it can be hard to cling onto life. There’s the real temptation to end it all, but what if Death is tired of this last resort? Death’s Game reimagines life after Choi’s suicide as a video game, whose limited lives function like reincarnation into different save points, and whose game over means eternal damnation in hell. With such an interesting premise from the popular webtoon, some of the best actors in Korea, and no way of being able to predict what would happen in Choi’s multiple, varied lives, Death’s Game reinvents plenty of today’s K-Drama tropes while possibly reconceptualizing how we feel about life and death… if it’s able to stick the landing when the second half drops this January.

Part court drama, part medical procedural, and part detective mystery, The Apothecary Diaries is the sort of anime that easily handles multiple genres and does it so well. With the insatiably curious Maomao investigating certain court ailments as a poison tester, it naturally creates a new mystery of the week, all deduced from her apothecary beginnings and her life in the red light district. It’s also integrated well into the main plot, as Maomao’s whole promotion starts from her sense of justice, with each mystery carefully revealing the court dynamics, various motivations each player has, and how the overall world of this Imperial China-inspired court operates. The Apothecary Diaries ties it all together with excellent writing.

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.

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.