35 Best TV Shows on Now TV UK

The bizarre case of Kathleen Peterson’s death, which has yet to be fully resolved to this day, has been the subject of many a media article. The press covered it relentlessly when it all started in 2001, then a critically-acclaimed documentary was released in 2004. This was followed up with a sequel in 2018, and now more than 20 years after the deed, a dramatization has come out in the form of a miniseries. You’d be forgiven for thinking the latter couldn’t possibly have anything new to offer, but you would also be wrong. In fact, the series is a masterclass in storytelling. Led by an a-list cast (of which Colin Firth is the absolute standout) and told with such layered depth, The Staircase is a must-watch not just for true crime but for film and TV fans everywhere. 

Utilizing time jumps and crafty transitions, The Staircase isn’t set at one particular time, which is fitting considering the trial lasted for 16 years. It also isn’t centered on just the mystery or the family, but instead is just as interested in the making of the 2004 documentary that introduced (and humanized) the case to an even wider sect of people. If you’re looking for a neat ending or some form of satisfying retribution, you won’t find it here. But you will be getting an engrossing meditation on truth and its elusiveness

A black comedy with an aggressively bleak view of its own protagonist, this story of a celebrity’s life falling apart starts off funny and gradually becomes more and more difficult to watch. As the titular character scrambles to keep each part of her life afloat, her sense of self begins to fracture as well—emphasizing how our lives are defined by the responsibilities we have over others and ourselves. Billie Piper is extraordinary in the lead role, spiraling further down in ways that are truly haunting, and Leila Farzad balances her out perfectly as Suzie’s unapologetic, type A manager.

If the show’s first season is impressive enough with its unpredictable mix of styles and stern drama, season two—which only consists of three episodes—ratchets up the tension even more, playing out like an extended anxiety attack backstage at a reality show. Think Uncut Gems but with lots of dancing. For the boldness of its direction alone, I Hate Suzie doesn’t serve to just fly under the radar.

Watching The Day of the Jackal feels like watching a film; it’s taut, fast-paced, and flashy, featuring incredible dual performances by Redmayne and Lynch. Like many thrillers before it, The Day of the Jackal centers on a cat-and-mouse chase between an official and a transgressor, but the series smartly blurs the line between good and evil. Redmayne’s Jackal is by all accounts the bad guy—he’s a hitman after all—but we’re shown his humane side and the lives he works hard to protect. Meanwhile, Lynch’s Bianca is a government agent, but her hands are dirtied with just as much (if not more) blood than the Jackal. Who’s really at fault here? Part of the fun in watching this is figuring that out, but it’s also just as enjoyable to see what disguise the Jackal whips out, and what moral quandary Bianca finds herself deep in, next.

Based on Gillian Flynn’s 2006 debut novel, the two actors are showcased by director Jean-Marc Vallée (Dallas Buyers Club). Amy Adams stars as the troubled crime reporter Camille Preaker, who investigates a serial murder in her hometown after a stint at a psychiatric hospital. The second female lead is Patricia Clarkson, who stars as Camille’s oppressive mother, a small-town socialite. Uncovering the mystery of the city of Wind Gap, anti-hero Camille must delve into the town’s gruesome history well as that of her own family, while also confronting her trauma and self-harming behavior. This three-pronged plot and great acting makes for a tense thriller drama. A slow-burner without being slow—grim and disturbing—and one that also packs a lot of insight into the ramifications of abuse.

Though it sets itself up as a mystery series, the tense and dramatically heavy Save Me avoids easy questions and focuses instead on how a crisis can affect different members of a community in equally painful ways. The show isn’t immune from random coincidences and contrivances, but even these little twists in the plot point force us to reevaluate how we think about these characters from moment to moment. This group of people that comes together when a teenage girl disappears isn’t made up of the most heroic individuals; in fact, it becomes difficult to root for some of the most prominent characters due to sins that they’re still trying to atone for.

This is what elevates Save Me above other mystery/thriller dramas. And giving depth and dignity to these working class people are a brilliant ensemble full of great performances: lead star and creator Lennie James, Suranne Jones, Stephen Graham, Lesley Manville, and season two addition Olive Gray—whose turn as a traumatized victim of human trafficking feels almost too real.

Even without doing the important and long overdue work of uplifting Native American voices, Dark Winds manages to be an intriguing mystery, layered with complex performances and bolstered by the majestic expanse of the American Southwest (in the ‘70s no less!). Finally released from the shackles of supporting roles, Zahn McClarnon shines here; he’s in top form as the gritty but softhearted police officer who protects his tribe from encroaching federal forces. The mysteries that propel the show are compelling too; they have the same beats as any you’d expect from a crime thriller, but they’re seeped deep into Native American mysticism, making them intriguing and wholly unique. 

“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.

Regardless of being gay or straight in the 80s, AIDS has irrevocably shifted America in ways it long refused to acknowledge. The six New Yorkers at the center of Angels in America have their lives completely shifted due to the disease, but the way Tony Kushner weaves the disease into various social and religious concerns of the end of the 21st century, and the way director Mike Nichols translates Kushner’s brilliant play into a moving, yet comedic near six-hour miniseries proves how intrinsically linked these irrevocable shifts– the grief, the pain, and the need for hope– has been to the bittersweet progress America has made and has yet to make.

Sometimes, nothing beats the easygoing entertainment of watching two attractive characters flirt and fall in love on screen, or seeing a group of ride-or-die friends get into trouble together. HBO’s Insecure, which ran for five successful seasons, knows that it doesn’t need to exaggerate or put a subversive twist on the romantic comedy to find relatable and affecting storylines. The series stays mostly locked in to South Los Angeles, California as it follows Issa (Issa Rae) navigate the modern dating scene, try to settle on a career path, and manage her friendships as an ambitious and somewhat awkward thirtysomething Black woman.

Even if you don’t have much in common with Issa, Insecure is a massively comforting watch. Rae and co-creator Larry Wilmore have an impeccable eye for the messy, unspoken rules of social and romantic interaction that other shows might write off as too trivial. But this show lives and breathes in the ordinary, realistic problems—while still indulging in the warm and fuzzy feelings brought about by meeting someone new or seeing yourself grow up just a little more.

As has become typical of a David Simon series, The Deuce manages to bring myriad characters and perspectives into one setting, but somehow without resulting in information overload or stale drama. Simon’s work (most famously, The Wire) has always been arguably more ethnographic than traditionally dramatic, and here it’s no different: the portrait he and co-creator George Pelecanos paint of ’70s New York feels so real that watching this is almost educational. The Deuce is a series all about change and freedom and the contradictions that come with ideas of sexual liberation and commodification, and it’s endlessly fascinating to watch how these characters continue to dream big and redefine themselves in their own seedy little corner of the world.