100 Best Foreign Shows on Netflix Right Now

The series follows three perspectives: a government official, a Tokyo Electric Power Company employee, and a worker at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, each with their respective teams tackling the aftermath of the March 11, 2001 earthquake and tsunami. From the reporting updates to the public to the dedication of first responders, ‘The Days’ excels at piecing together the macro- and micro-decisions that went into saving the residents of Fukushima. The series deepens the narrative to be more than a mere recollection with its scenes of the families of the victims and the residents as they evacuate their homes. Its steady pace, emotional close-ups, and suspenseful score capture the harrowing atmosphere of Japan’s worst natural disaster. 

Not fully a mystery and not entirely a thriller, yet on the cusp of both, the initial setup of Burn the House Down promises a definite answer and dismantles it in every episode. Sure that her mother was framed, Anzu infiltrates Makiko’s new lavish life to prove that the fire set to her home thirteen years ago was no accident. She knows the culprit but lacks evidence, but when she’s reacquainted with Makiko’s eldest son, his reclusive demeanour takes a sinister turn. The premise is straightforward, yet it’s hard to look away from Anzu skulking around as she finds remnants of her mother’s old life and sweet-talking the family that destroyed hers. Trying to piece together that fateful night isn’t simple but feels worth the unexpected detours three episodes in. 

More lush period piece than scary science fiction, Gyeongseong Creature promised a terrifying creature, but it starts slow, dedicating more of its time to its humans than immediately battling monsters. This helps establish the romance, especially as hardened private eye Yoon Chae-ok appeals to privileged pawn broker Jang Tae-sang’s sense of duty, as well as the historical context behind the story. In doing so, the show confronts the violence of the Japanese occupation of Korea through implication rather than directly recreating these horrors. It’s all the more satisfying when the action begins, as Chae-ok and Tae-sang shift their priorities from doing a job to actively undermining the evil hospital’s efforts. Gyeongseong Creature might not let its creature loose early, but its true horror lies not with the monster created, but with the abuses permitted by war.

With the current deluge of biopics streaming, it’s easy to overlook Clark, Netflix’s fictionalized take on Clark Olofssonm, from whom the term “Stockholm Syndrome” was coined. Bill Skarsgård, Hollywood’s favorite onscreen creep, returns to his native Sweden and plays the titular criminal with such feverish passion that it’s impossible to take your eyes off the screen.

The delirious editing (bordering on excess or camp, depending on your taste) also makes it quite the standout among all the sober real-life adaptations. Clark will surely be hit-or-miss for most people, but its riskiness alone is enough reason to watch. 

Mexico City, 1970. Héctor Belascoarán leaves his stable office job and beautiful (but unhappy) marriage to pursue the adrenaline-filled life of a private detective. The police are useless, Héctor points out, not to mention corrupt and often in on the crime, so it’s up to him to tackle the many unsolved cases that haunt the city he loves.

Because he thinks himself a hero, Héctor narrates each episode in that nostalgic noir way, but the catch is that he is, in fact, no slick savior. Hector is still a rookie, prone to blunders and miscalculations, but his perseverance saves the day. In this way Belascoarán, PI is both a tribute and a sendup of detective films of yore; it references the genre in style and substance, but it isn’t above joking about it either. It’s proof that you can challenge viewers without sacrificing the laughs, and vice versa.

This six-episode whodunit isn’t breaking any new ground, but it’s entertaining and engaging, especially with the rebellious Lidia Poët (Matilda De Angelis) as the lead. She’s smart and determined but not wholly immune to weaknesses—a sort of Enola Holmes for the more mature crowd. Her story is also a timeless reminder of the uphill battle women have fought (and are continuing to fight) for visibility and equality. 

The familiar setup might also work for classic mystery fans. It’s a treat to dive into each episode knowing a new case is to be solved and a new lesson to be learned. The ending might be predictable at times, but this is one of those shows where the journey matters more than the destination. Italy in the early 20th century was a surprisingly restrictive and patriarchal society, making Lidia’s successes all the more noteworthy and resonant.

Aspiring boxer Kim Gun-woo (Woo Do-hwan) befriends fellow rookie Hong Woo-jin (Lee Sang-yi) during the heights of Covid-19. After a ruthless loan shark, Kim Myung-gil (Park Sung-woong) cons Gun-woo’s mother into taking a predatory loan, they team up with a moneylender (motivated by his own painful history with Myung-gil) to shut down his schemes for good. 

As with many South Korean revenge action thrillers, Bloodhounds sheds light on the economic exploitation of the working class. Standard, to the point of being predictable, the fight for justice feels formulaic and quickly paced due to its oversimplified and convenient plot. With an abundance of zestful action scenes and empathic beats, the series delivers enough on its promised premise.

Based on the 2019 Taiwanese drama, A Time Called You is a fresh take on the time travel romance with its unique premise and structure. The series seamlessly shifts between the decades, flitting between them with ease. It simultaneously introduces both couples on separate, parallel timelines, 1998 at the start of the love triangle, with 2023 at the untimely end of Jun-hee’s. These two timelines merge through time travel via a gifted cassette tape. Because of these shifts, the show creates the expected nostalgia, but it also effectively drives the show’s mystery, as Jun-hee tries to figure out the photo and the trio on it. While the show takes its sweet time doing so, A Time Called You twists the heart in exploring the grief of lost love, and the hope for a second chance.

Like the biopics of other musicians, Love After Music tracks the life of Argentine rock-and-roll musician Fito Páez. From his beginnings as a band keyboardist in 1977 to his 1993 solo concert for UNICEF, the mini-series delves into the themes and inspiration that drive his work through eight episodes. As Páez performs, the series flips between the song being sung and related flashbacks from Páez’s life, implying how Páez feels through images instead of dialogue. This approach can feel confusing at times, but it makes this account of his life a more personal and experiential biopic. Fans of the Latin Grammy Lifetime Awardee would most likely enjoy this series, however, for audiences unfamiliar with the singer, like myself, it’s still an interesting series to watch.

Song of the Bandits takes time to gain momentum, but when it does, it crackles like gunpowder. The first few episodes take great pains to explain occupied Korea’s complicated political situation (China, Japan, and a few Western bodies fight over its resources), and unsurprisingly, Song of the Bandits champions the motherland’s cry for independence. It’s a very patriotic show that doesn’t leave a lot of room for other sides, often even bordering on melodrama in its calls for justice, but that should be expected in any war-set story. Once it gets into gear, however, it delivers all the thrills you’d expect from a neo-Western. There’s a lot of gunslinging, backstabbing, espionage, and sure enough, bandits chasing a loaded train on horseback. Depending on where you stand, it also comes as a satisfying revenge thriller, one that distorts history to give this fictional Korean rebel army their due. It’s a bit like Inglorious Basterds in that it follows a paramilitary group comprised of offbeat but vicious characters, but I’d say it’s mostly similar to another Netflix history K-drama, Mr. Sunshine. If you like either (or better, both), then you’ll love Song of the Bandits. 

African Folktales Reimagined is exactly what it says in the tin. The anthology isn’t exactly a cohesive, one-plot show – it’s a collection of folktale-inspired short films from six different countries, by six different filmmakers, funded by grants from a rare Netflix-UNESCO partnership. As such, the collection features a variety of genres and styles. If you like Westerns, you might want to watch Katera of the Punishment Island. If you’re into Afrofuturistic sci-fi, try watching Halima’s Choice first. Into supernatural stories? Watch Enmity Djinn. Katope and MaMlambo lean more on the fantastical side of the folklore, while Anyango and the Ogre feels like a straightforward drama. It’s a fairly varied collection, and there’s something here for everyone. African Folktales Reimagined takes a modern twist to the folktales that shaped the continent.

“This is a work of fantasy but to fantasize is to be human.” This quote is placed at the beginning of Creature, a passion project brought to life by writer-director Cagan Irmak, now available on Netflix. Inspired by Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Irmak reimagines the monster resurrection concept without sticking to closely to the original plot points, crafting a narrative that jumps back and forth between two separate timelines – the past, with Ziya’s rise in medical experimentation, and the present, with the titular creature rescuing a dying man. It makes for a historical drama that may not be as horrific as the original, but is no less intriguing in its themes.

Netflix released yet another coming-of-age show, and this time it’s a lovely coastal vacation set in the Polish seaside. Absolutely Beginners feels familiar, as the quirky protagonists set out to make a short film, they also get into a trio with someone living in the area. It’s not quite a love triangle though, even if the series is marked as romance, and even with its limited runtime, it’s dedicated to building up the friendship between the three. And this friendship is portrayed in such a tender and sweet way that respects both their unique dynamic and their individual paths.

Honestly, if we’re going to choose between the two Netflix samurai releases dropped on Japan’s Culture Day… It’s going to be Blue Eye Samurai. However, Onimusha is a fairly decent Japanese anime, even if it is overshadowed by the Asian-American revenge saga. The show takes the strengths of the original game – samurai fighting oni-controlled zombies – while shifting the show’s timeline to a calmer era that allows it to develop a cohesive plot, unlike old video game adaptations. While the 2D-3D blend falters in exposition scenes, the show’s spectacular horrors, great action scenes, and a cheeky Toshiro Mifune-inspired Miyamoto Musashi makes Onimusha a fun watch.

Bright, chaotic, and surprisingly funny, Wake Up Carlo seems like one of those kid’s shows that could make adults laugh. The show first starts in an idyllic, nature-filled island that feels like a feverish acid trip complete with a talking mountain, but this strange setting gets replaced with rectangular blocky buildings, an influencer-esque dictator, and unethical memory wiping of small joys common people have lost. Through every neon colored frame, Carlo and his friends go through familiar absurdities with the fast paced jibber-jabber, but it still keeps it PG enough that kids could enjoy. While some of the jabs might be too kooky for some viewers, Wake Up Carlo is a reminder for adults to remember childhood’s simplicities, while it pokes fun at the ever complex world we’ve created.

Detective Forst isn’t a mindbending, totally original crime thriller that would revolutionize the detective genre, but sometimes we just want something familiar. The thriller adaptation of Remigiusz Mróz’s book series mostly sticks to the classic tropes, with eerily strung up bodies being investigated by the gruff, hardened detective, portrayed well by Borys Szyc. It’s not immediately clear what brought Forst to the mountains– whatever it was, it’s enough to gain the mistrust of his new station, and it’s possibly the reason behind his splitting migraines– but that’s part of the fun, as an additional mystery alongside who is behind the murders. That being said, the show plans to depict a whole series, so the ending of its first season might exasperate viewers who just want a complete story. Still, with the striking scenery of the Tatra Mountains, Detective Forst is at least stunning enough to watch, even with all the moody murder mystery tropes onboard.

With a ludicrous amount of cash, and one of the perpetrators escaping into a luxurious European life posted on Facebook, it’s no wonder Netflix decided to create Baby Bandito. The source material practically writes itself, and it’s easy to fictionalize some details for added drama. The show does this, turning the original robber into a well-meaning skateboarder Kevin Tapia that steals the plans of a mob in order to escape his rough neighborhood, but some of the characterization falters, specifically when it involves his girlfriend Génesis. There are moments it goes into generic territory, but the series is certainly well-shot, full of charm, and daring in the way it focuses more on the consequences rather than the heist itself.

Children’s television isn’t likely going to be controversial, daring, or particularly groundbreaking, but certain shows acknowledge that they can impact the way their audience views the world. Luz: The Light of the Heart has a familiar Disney-esque plot of a child going on an adventure to learn more about her roots, but through that basic formula, the first Brazilian Netflix kid series takes the opportunity to respectfully portray the indigenous Kaingang community in their plot, who takes care of and is more knowledgeable about the natural land, and whose teachings may be acknowledged if Luz, potential land heiress, manages to find out the truth. There are some of the standard childish shenanigans, like privileged boarding school drama that occurs when Luz enters the school, but overall, Luz: The Light of the Heart isn’t a bad choice if you’re looking for something to watch with children.

Like John Wick before it, Furies follows a vengeful and near-invincible (albeit rookie) assassin as she infiltrates the criminal underworld and avenges a murdered loved one. There are other similarities too, like the lofty codenames and the intricately choreographed action sequences, but otherwise, Furies is its own solid thing. Owing to its format, it has more melodrama and plot twists, and has a lot more room to flesh out its main character, Lyna. It’s also more of a team effort than a solo show since, as the name suggests, Furies is more of a team, a family even. It can get cliche at times, and my main gripe is that Lyna gets too good at her combat skills too fast, but if you can overlook those details, then Furies is wholly enjoyable: gritty, stylish, fast-paced, and most importantly, action-packed.

The way we are introduced to sex does shape the way sex features in our lives, whether that be an unintended glimpse into the wrong room, or an accidental encounter to NSFW media, or a proper discussion towards sex. Being inspired by, but not entirely accurate to the life of prolific Italian porn star Rocco Siffredi, sex is central to Supersex not just as his job, but as the way his family, relationships, and his concept of love is irrevocably affected by it. It’s fixated on sex, yes, but showrunner Francesca Manieri stirs the discussion not towards how hot it can be, but towards the various ways sex affirms and negates his masculinity, as well as the conceptions that determine that, and how it can slip into vice rather than healthy pleasure. There are moments where the series falters, particularly the way it depicts internalized homophobia, but overall, Supersex is a well-meaning exploration of sex work and masculinity.

When teens are superheroes, it can be tough to balance the regular teen drama along with saving the city (or maybe the world), but it’s a fairly common premise for a teen show. Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir may take some familiar super teen tropes, like the secret identities, awesome suit-up moments, and cool powers, but unlike most shows, the enemies they fight are teens just like them, trying to deal with regular teen problems… except they’ve been given power and bad influence from Hawk Moth, an overdramatic supervillain that somehow keeps up-to-date to the latest drama in Marinette and Adrien’s Parisian high school. Playing with new powers and switching up the tropes, Miraculous is a fun gem of a kid’s show, one that pays genuine attention to kid’s issues, even if they solve it with the most ludicrous of powers and catchiest of songs.

Grief can make you see things you don’t normally see. For most people, it means seeing your life in a new way, but for Alex in The Last Night at Tremore Beach, it means seeing terrifying visions of a future that he must figure out how to stop. It’s an interesting idea, especially as it contemplates the way we also grieve over lives not lived, but the Spanish adaptation of the Ireland-set book takes a long time to get there, taking such a slow pace that can try plenty of viewers. Still, with a bit of patience, the show eventually unfolds to a twisty mystery thriller with excellent shots and impeccable sound design. While less scary than expected, The Last Night at Tremore Beach nonetheless is worth watching, especially for fans of the supernatural mystery.

Released earlier in 2023, Lady Voyeur is reminiscent of those 80s-90s erotic thrillers that you or your parents weren’t allowed to watch, albeit with a modern hacking subplot. The Brazilian Netflix mini-series balances its erotic and its thriller sides– with Eros ruling the consensual scenes, and fear powering the mystery of Prado-Couto families. Relying on mirrors, CCTV cameras, and window reflections, the show follows the titular protagonist Miranda, seeing and being seen, as she gets roped into a conspiracy against her fling’s best friend and hotel conglomerate. It’s an interesting watch, though it lacks a tighter resolution to all its plotlines.

After decades of terrifying tales, it’s no wonder that Junji Ito developed a cult following internationally, big enough for a streaming giant like Netflix to invest in a brand new adaptation. Junji Ito Maniac: Japanese Tales of the Macabre is fairly faithful to its source material, keeping the plot points of supernatural beings and spine-chilling body horror in its selected twelve tales. That being said, being an anthology, the selection in Junji Ito Maniac greatly varies on how scary it is. On top of this, the series’ art style, made more cleanly for easier animation, is simply less scary than the black-and-white, shadowy sketches from the original manga. New and younger viewers might still get a thrill from the latest anime rendition of Junji Ito’s stories, though older fans might find that it pales to the original.

While Western viewers are more acquainted with gay representation in Western media, Asia also has its fair share of gay portrayals in the Asian BL and Japanese yaoi genres. While mistakenly viewed by some as explicit, there are some BL titles that are more on the sweet side, and I Cannot Reach You is one of them. The show might go through the typical childhood best friends to lovers plotline, in overly soft lighting and too many flashbacks, but the cheesy approach can come across as charming to romance fans, as Yamato and Kakeru go through the classic coming-of-age moments other straight teen romances have. The romance isn’t particularly deep, but viewers wanting something easy and lighthearted to explore the genre might appreciate this live action adaptation of the widely popular BL manga.

At its core, The Signal is a compelling mystery made even more interesting by its sci-fi elements and tender father-daughter moments. The problem is that it goes on for way too long. This could’ve been a very engaging two-hour film, watchable from start to end, but because of its convoluted storytelling and unnecessarily slow pace, it’s an overlong four-part series. There’s a sense that writer and star Florian David Fitz, who plays Sven, had too much fun with the script’s non-linear and multi-perspective approach, but instead of elevating the material, it drags it down with lulls and entire scenes that could’ve been removed from the final cut. The Signal is not necessarily bad; in fact, for a series, it’s impressive how high its production value is and how trippy its mystery gets. But it would’ve been more impressive if Fitz had trimmed the fat off the story and condensed it into the feature-length film it should’ve been.

Rap music originated in the African American community, but internationally, there are local music industries diving into the genre, including countries in Africa as well. Kenyan music drama Volume puts theirs on the spotlight, through up-and-coming artist Benja trying to make his way. But the show isn’t just about a musician’s dream– it’s about the crew that surrounds him too. There’s his friend Castillo whose crime and influencer girlfriend can make or break his career. And there’s his girlfriend Lucy, who’s torn between her support and her religious family. Writer-director Tosh Gitonga balances their respective subplots well, able to maintain its watchability through its understanding of the stakes. Volume might be a familiar story, but it’s still an entertaining watch, because it understands how this dream can be tough to reach coming from a rough neighborhood, and how tough it can be to keep this dream pure and unadulterated.

Life can be funny sometimes, with the way accidents can lead us to what would make the entirety of our lives. Usually, these accidents lead us to a new career, maybe the love of our life, and sometimes a new life path altogether, but for recently discharged Lee Tang in A Killer Paradox, it leads to finding that his talent is killing evildoers, accidentally or otherwise. It’s funny to see Lee accidentally getting away with murder and the way his imagination conceives of his serial killer victims, but the show also gets into intriguing thought experiments about the morality of his actions, as well as the way we try to reconcile the tragedy of a lost life, with the terrible consequences of the actions they did with their lives. It’s enjoyable, with the great cast and the unique cinematography, but the writing, structure, and thriller aspects fail to maximize what’s so interesting about A Killer Paradox.

Usually, telepathy is just portrayed as a cool superpower. In Eye Love You, it’s useful for Motomiya to secure her CEO position, but it also means an imbalance in every interaction she has with other people… At least, until she meets Korean student Yoon Tae-oh. This, of course, becomes the basis for their relationship, which, while starting from a pretty novel idea, plays out in the cheesy, romantic ways we’re used to seeing in both Japanese and Korean dramas. With Yoon Tae-oh better characterized, it’s lovely to see Chae Jong Hyeop to charm in both languages, but it’s disappointing to see how cliché the protagonist is depicted, how her main desire isn’t personal but in relation to another man (her father), when the show comes primarily through her perspective. Still, Eye Love You’s unique power leads to the unique idea that differences can mean connection– and having them allows us to truly appreciate each other, as long as we’re open enough to get to know them.

As the prequel to what’s been called “Chinese Lord of the Rings”, The Longest Promise has the stunning sets, costumes, and magic to match, but not the worldbuilding or storytelling. The world of Yun Huang has familiar magical fantasy elements, as well as a royalty romance plotline where different tribes and communities vie for power in the continent. However, the way these elements are introduced makes it hard for new viewers to follow, particularly those unfamiliar with the Mirror book series it is based on. It’s still an entertaining watch, especially for fans of the fantastic xianxia genre.

With its gorgeous styling and unique premise, Eva Lasting is an interesting watch, though certain elements keep it from its potential. The Colombian coming-of-age drama is centered around Eva, the first and only girl in school, with Camilo and his friends getting into dumb schoolboy antics around her. Immediately, this promises fun situations that would bring the 70s nostalgia of formative high school experiences, and the show delivers. The cast has a fun dynamic with each other, and they evoke the same kind of teenage spirit behind classic John Hughes films. However, the writing employs many sexist tropes, and doesn’t make their dynamic feel real. It’s the cast that carries this burden, and it’s them that makes the show watchable.

As a fantasy romance series, Shahmaran feels like it could be something more. Blending in Turkish folklore and a steamy romance, the show is based on the legend of the titular feminine mythic creature and a prophecy promising Shahmaran’s return, if only they’re willing to make the same sacrifice she did long ago. There’s something here about coming to terms with your past, whether that be your heritage or your family’s history of mental illness and trauma. However, the show’s slow pace can dissuade viewers, and the series can’t help itself from leaning too far into the drama of it all.

With the premise, Amidst a Snowstorm of Love seemed to be a sports-related romance, albeit taking place in a snowy location. It’s a familiar story, with a discouraged athlete finding inspiration for their craft again through romance, and it’s a story that works. But in the first few episodes, Amidst a Snowstorm of Love feels more focused on the snowstorm romance rather than the character’s personal journeys with regards to their sport. To their credit, this is a great excuse for some of the most cozy looking outfits on screen (is this a clothing ad?), and Leo Wu and Zhao Jin Mai are so, so beautiful in their puffy coats, but it feels like the billiards are irrelevant to the story, as they make no mention of it until the second episode. Maybe they should have gone for a more relevant winter sport, so that we can see them in even more cozy coats?

The lives of affluent teenagers tend to be entertaining fodder used in plenty of shows, as their privilege, inexperience, and spending power allow them to go into some crazy situations. High Tides is one of those shows, set in the Belgian seaside town of Knokke, where working class Daan bumps into and captures the attention of rich high school couple Louise and Alex. The show definitely goes into a lot of the familiar soapy melodrama, with drugs, alcohol, and terrible parents driving them to teenage antics, but it does so through stunning visuals and a talented cast that makes the inane plot decent enough to watch. The show is nothing new, but for viewers into soapy teenage dramas, High Tides might be up your alley.

Many telenovelas involve unresolved parentage, and Pact of Silence is no different. However, unlike other orphans, the child in this Mexican series is now out for revenge. Through 18 episodes, social media influencer Brenda hopes to take revenge on the mother who abandoned her, and the three friends that helped her. The show is fast paced, both through Brenda’s present investigation and through the flashbacks of the people she’s suspecting, yet it still manages to keep up the suspense with its twists and turns. However, it seems like the show is more interested in learning more about the privileged women, rather than in the struggle Brenda has gone through. While the show tries to uncover the mystery of Brenda’s parents, it’s hard to say whether or not the show will delve deep into Brenda, and actually tackle why she wants to go through revenge.

What do you do when you have to move to a parent you’ve never met? Or when the child you never raised went back to you? Itxaso and the Sea explores this in this Basque family drama, with coming-of-age and slightly suspenseful subplots. Itxaso, raised in Mexico, is a fish-out-of-water in this coastal town, and, with the upheavals in her life, has a choice to make between staying and reconnecting with her father, and her Basque heritage. Mikel, who stayed behind town, tries to keep his surfing school and his life the way it is. There’s a compelling plot here, as they try to grasp the lives they want to live, over connecting with each other, but the series’ multiple subplots muddle the personal family dynamic.

When it was announced that actors Lee Min-Ho and Gong Hyo-Jin were going to star together in a spaceship romance drama with a hefty budget, fans hoped that When the Stars Gossip was going to be good. It’s a pretty unique premise– how many K-dramas have you seen in space?– and to its credit, the show maximizes on the production design and cinematography. It’s also refreshing to see a more lighthearted project for Lee in particular. But the show juggles way too many plotlines with uneven humor, with an exciting space mission strained with the weight of Kong Ryong’s overelaborate backstory. And with a rumored 50 billion won budget, we’re not sure this spaceflight was worth the cost.

As impressive as Vasco Rossi’s life was, it’s hard to connect to someone you haven’t heard of, which is probably why this docuseries is best seen by die-hard music fans alone. The series takes its time to introduce Rossi and explain his impact on Italian music, but even then, it can seem like something you’ve seen before. The documentary shies away from the cultural specificities and nuances that make Rossi the singular musician that he is, attempting instead to generalize his life into clear-cut sections as if it were a book. Even with Rossi present and narrating many parts of the series, it still lacks the ruggedness and spikiness that made Rossi’s music burst with relevance in the late 20th century. There is a sense that the filmmakers created this series with an international audience in mind, but by making his story as general and universal as possible, they might have inadvertently diluted Rossi’s power.

As is oddly common for TV shows revolving around stand-up comedy, the actual jokes in Comedy Chaos are mostly duds—or in this case, may have been greatly lost in translation from the original Indonesian. But while the show’s humor is only ever mildly amusing at best, it opens with a pretty compelling set-up: a protagonist fired for speaking up for labor rights, a marriage that has its miscommunications but remains firm, and characters who are all constantly plagued by money problems. So there’s a relatability to Comedy Chaos that keeps it intact, and it’s refreshing to see this series resist the usual cliched conflicts you’d expect to see early on.

Given the 40 minute runtime of each episode for four episodes, we’re not quite sure why The Breakthrough decided to make this into a series format. Breaking the real life case into four parts doesn’t seem to add suspense or thrill, given the especially slow pace of the first half, but with the real life investigation having lasted sixteen years, the slow pace is somewhat apt, stretching the doubt and frustration everyone involved was experiencing. It certainly won’t be the most exciting true crime series Netflix has ever created, but if you truly have nothing to watch, The Breakthrough isn’t bad… But it’s not spectacular enough to recommend.

The most obvious cultural reference point for Barracuda Queens is The Bling Ring: both tell the based-on-real-life stories of a group of (mostly) wealthy young women who rob rich people’s houses. But where Sofia Coppola’s movie was rooted in a very specific era and explored the fascinating generational and psychological quirks that drove its disaffected teen burglars to do what they did, this Swedish Netflix series, at least in the first four episodes viewed for this review, makes only a half-hearted effort to evoke its ‘90s setting and takes a much soapier, less forensic approach to its story.

Here, the young women’s gateway into crime is the sky-high bill they rack up after a debauched weekend away. In need of cash to pay it off quickly, they convince themselves that they’re only robbing their wealthy neighbors to solve that problem, but other motivations soon arise. The women — who are mostly university-age, but seem closer to the protagonists of a teen drama — eventually begin to target people they have petty grievances with (like a love interest who spurns the ringleader after a one-night stand) as well as those who have wronged them more seriously (including a rapist, who gets off bizarrely lightly). The adrenaline rush of it all proves addictive for the gang, too. What’s more, for Mia (Tea Stjärne), the only member of the group not from a wealthy background, there’s also a Robin Hood-ish appeal to the burglaries, although this aspect regrettably takes something of a backseat to the girls’ escapades in the show. 

Between the gang’s crime spree and their unbelievably dysfunctional home lives, there’s enough broad drama here to keep Netflix’s autoplay function in good use. Even if it doesn’t provide keen insight, sharp nuance, or a remotely realistic plot, the show does go beyond a surface-level approach by exploring something of the girls’ inner lives, the class dynamics of their friendship group, and the shallowness of their parents’ milieu. At three hours total — and with an opening scene that teases a dramatic rise-and-fall story ahead — it all makes for a very bingeable, if ultimately forgettable, watch.

The best thing about a Cinderella story is knowing she’ll get a Prince Charming™ by the end (with or without the rats and pumpkins). The first episode of My Happy Marriage sets up the fairytale expectations to a T. Mistreated by her step-mother and step-sister – and a tragic mom-is-dead backstory – this anime hits expected beats which means it’ll either be a comfortable watch or a predictable skip. The silver lining comes when Miyo’s step-sister marries her long-time crush while she is sent away to marry a difficult man known to repel his suitors. A swoon-worthy, slow-burn romance is surely on the horizon, enveloped in a strikingly beautiful, dreamy animation. 

Iron Reign isn’t downright terrible. It has the usual stakes of a crime series– tough guys, guns, and cargo that the gang wants to sell, while the cops want to stop– and right off the gate, there are decent gunfight sequences between gangs that are fun to watch. However, even with a great production, and a unique portside location, the characters of Iron Reign start off as the most generic versions of themselves. Manchado rules the port, but we don’t get to know his mindset, what drives him, or anything that would motivate him, whereas Victor seems determined to bring him down only because it’s his real job as a police infiltrator. The betrayals and double-dealing later on start making the drama feel more interesting, but Iron Reign’s introductions falter in making the characters seem interesting.

We don’t like to think about it, but there are children around the world recruited into organized crime, and sometimes, it leads to violent tragedies, the very kind we want to protect our children from. Deliver Me is a Swedish miniseries based on the best-selling novel of the same name that explores how a teen delinquent enters this vicious world. The series starts with the aftermath of an attempted murder– with Dogge holding a gun in his hands and his best friend Billy bleeding out in front of him. The cops in charge, led by Farid, hope to help him, by gaining more information about the gang they were recruited into, but it’s not an easy investigation. It’s depressing, especially when Dogge is so convinced he’d get off scot-free, and the issue is clearly important. But it also doesn’t stand out, as the series pulls off the same Netflix flair we’re already used to.

Berlin has everything it needs to be a big hit, from its connections to global sensation Money Heist; to the polished qualities of a Netflix production and the easy, pulpy thrills of a heist led by a cast of attractive people. But early on there’s a sense that this spin-off/prequel is just spinning its wheels, stoking the obligatory sexual tension between crew members and getting its characters out of sticky situations far too easily. Berlin is familiar for sure, which means it can still be entertaining in bursts, with well-shot, well-edited heist sequences jolting each episode awake. But it’s difficult to find any sort of emotional foothold here, as the title character’s actions become even harder to understand.

If you’re familiar with the classic supernatural romance Ghost (1990), Why Didn’t I Tell You A Million Times? will remind you of it. It doesn’t have the comedic banter of Whoopi Goldberg, but it does have a back-and-forth dynamic between the ghost and the detective that sees him. It doesn’t have the leading lady’s potential murder, but it does have a murder to investigate. It also has more food porn, as the main couple is bound by Japanese hamburg steak and salty custard puddings. There’s something here about love transcending the physical realm and troubled pasts lead to a lifetime of service or a lifetime of crime. However, the series can’t decide on one perspective to start from and relies too much on flashbacks to tell its story. Why Didn’t I Tell You A Million Times? had the potential to be a moving supernatural romance, but it’s let down by lackluster execution.

As far as heist stories go, Choona gets points for placing so much importance on the act of getting its team together. The first two episodes watched for this review don’t advance forward in plot as much as they pivot from one point of view to another around the same moments in time. Unfortunately, because the series is so particular about its own structure, it loses sight of the reasons why we should be emotionally invested in the heist in the first place. There is a world of gang violence sketched out in these early episodes, but little sense of what’s actually at stake. And with the show’s over-reliance on voiceover narration, Choona sucks the tension out of its plot, as this seemingly omniscient voice constantly keeps us at a distance.

Following the success of the Aníkúlápó movie, Netflix Naija has followed up the fantasy film with a sequel series, Rise of the Spectre. Like the original film, it showcases Yoruba culture with its excellent production design, and incorporates some familiar fantastical elements, like Saro’s resurrection. The premise is also pretty interesting, as it directly deals with the spiritual consequences of the first film. However, the show has less of the resurrection powers being used, with less time seeing the fantastical crow that grants Saro’s powers, and more time dedicated to dialogue heavy scenes that are tough to follow without watching the first film. Aníkúlápó: Rise of the Spectre has less of the fantasy we hoped to see.

Miss Adrenaline: A Tale of Twins isn’t exactly terrible, but the series isn’t something new. Alternatively known as Romina Poderosa, the show’s plot points are telenovela mainstays without anything new to say. This series has all the twin tropes: The secret twin. One rich, one poor. Both tragically separated at birth for reasons unknown.

With Romina’s biking, there could have been cool stunts and unique escape scenes that mark it different from car chases. However, Miss Adrenaline doesn’t establish the twin chemistry that would make us care about Romina’s succeeding revenge plot. And as Romina impersonates her twin, the show snuffed its chances for further spectacular bike stunts.

With a history of court magicians and diviners, it’s easy to imagine ancient Japan as a fantastical world. Onmyoji depicts Abe no Seimei, Japan’s most famous historical court cosmologist, as he solves cases that involve the supernatural. With people turning into demons, or demons possessing people, you’d think that the anime would be mystical, fantastical, perhaps even totally crazy, as magic could free the story from normal earth-bound logic. However, Onmyoji stays on the tamer side, mostly explaining its magic through Seimei’s dialogue, and each case’s flashbacks. The show doesn’t even delve into the court politics that would drive Seimei’s rivalry with a genderbent Ashiya Doman. Onmyoji feels like a missed opportunity to go absolutely nuts with its magic.

When France is portrayed on the silver screen, we’re more used to seeing the nation’s capital, Paris. Netflix instead takes us to the coastline of Marseilles in crime thriller series Blood Coast. As the Marseilles police team, led by police officer Lyès Benamar, hunts down the people behind the drugs, Interpol agent Alice Vadal gets transferred from Paris to the coastal case, possibly for revenge for her father. It’s a familiar plot, and the crime thriller goes through the motions in a slow, but predictable fashion, alternating between the police team and the organized syndicate behind the foreign drugs flooding the coast. The resulting show feels a tad boring, though it’s thankfully limited to only six episodes.

There is nothing in this Netflix docuseries about the disappearance of the ARA San Juan that you can’t read or watch anywhere else on the internet. The case itself is interesting, brimming with political controversy and engineering lessons to be learned, but the series’ narrative structure and editing are so formulaic and dull that they fail to bring justice to the promising premise. The flow is rocky, the build-up is missing, and the focus is scattered, so much so that a two-hour story, at best, has unnecessarily expanded itself into eight episodes. It’s not that the filmmakers have so much to say, it’s that they don’t know how to say it. If we can learn anything from this docuseries, it’s that any story no matter how big or small will suffer from a lack of direction and vision.

With the premise, Ololade seems like it would be a mysterious crime thriller, where two friends try to keep the wealth they suddenly obtained. It doesn’t really go that way, however, as the money leads into shenanigans involving multiple girlfriends, making it more a drama about infidelity than a drama about money laundering. The series tries to make fun of it, and there are moments when it’s funny to see them hide their mistresses, but these silly moments feel terrible considering that the show starts with one girlfriend’s death. There’s something here about the ridiculousness of juggling multiple women, but when this leads to a death that’s just brushed away, Ololade just seems thoughtlessly cruel.

With a title as generic as Bandidos, the series is set up exactly how you’d expect: a charming group of antiheroes and weirdos somehow coming together and pulling off improbable schemes while cracking jokes and flirting with each other. There’s a reason this formula works, of course, and the show’s charismatic cast helps greatly in making this a smooth watch—especially during set pieces that almost always end in narrow escapes. But the series also isn’t able to inject enough of its own personality into the story (at least in the first two episodes watched for this review), which when coupled with obligatory, forced romance and uncomfortable jokes constantly made towards a minor, only causes Bandidos to fade into the already oversaturated realm of heist shows and movies with the exact same attitude.

Cindy la Regia: The High School Years has interesting and relatable plot points. With her unfashionable and socially-unaware cousin moving into her home, Cindy has to introduce her to the rich and privileged world of San Pedro Garza García, while trying to adjust to co-ed high school, joining resume-friendly philanthropic organizations, and generally succeeding. It’s practically Clueless, but with other details scribbled in. Except… events in the first few days lead her to be ostracized, so she can’t actually introduce her to things. And her cousin isn’t actually socially inept. And emotional outbursts come and go without any build-up or warning. It’s possible that the show had to rush through its plot to ensure it fits the spry seven episode runtime, but Cindy la Regia: The High School Years feels like a cash grab for the successful 2020 Mexican film it’s based on.

Good ol’ fashioned live-audience sitcoms feel like a thing of the past, especially with Netflix’s whole season drops, and the binge-watching culture that has developed due to streaming. End of the Line brings back the sitcom approach, with Rodrigo Sant’anna and Roberta Rodrigues leading the comedic ensemble as a bickering driving divorced couple forced to share a space, but the fast-paced Brazilian show isn’t the laugh-out-loud, hilarious comedy of yesteryear. With an actual live audience that they actually show, it’s possible that some of the humor might be specific to the country. There are some moments that might pull out a chuckle or two, but most of the comedy feels more like clumsy improv, rather than well-written jokes based on characterization, set-up, and chemistry.

Many things can be said about Johnny Depp and Amber Heard’s whirlwind relationship. It was messy, violent, and indicative of the massive power imbalance that prevails in Hollywood relationships. And the lawsuits that resulted from their offenses against each other were informative too; the ex-couple’s 2022 defamation trial was a landmark case that proved the power social media had in determining not just public opinion but the court’s verdict too. In other words, Depp and Heard’s relationship was an interesting case that warranted analysis and careful speculation. Unfortunately, it doesn’t get that treatment in this Netflix docuseries. Here, director Emma Cooper trades in nuance and expert commentary for cheap shots at both celebrities by way of borrowed clips from the internet. There are no interviews, no deep dives, no studies in this “documentary” (I genuinely struggle to call it that). Instead, it lazily and desperately relies on viral YouTube clips, TikTok videos, and archival footage for content. They are strung together in a haphazard fashion, barely coherent with all the memes and jokey music it employs. The defamation case could’ve been studied from a legal, psychological, or industrial point of view—instead, Cooper chooses to serve this pile of steaming garbage that resembles the media spectacle it claims to expose.

Netflix is no stranger to murder mysteries, having a whole catalog of films and series in the genre from around the world. Because of this, it can be hard for lesser known, non-English titles from the streamer to get their work noticed, and we at A Good Movie to Watch try to find the best of these hidden gems. Unfortunately, Hard Broken is not one of them. The latest six-episode Lebanese series feels rushed, often containing plot points that don’t make sense, with stock characters that feel so one-dimensional. With the quality of other murder mysteries on the platform, it’s strange that Netflix decided to produce this series.

At 20 minutes per episode, the story of two brothers trying to make their dream of becoming professional, industry-changing dancers a reality is surprisingly uninteresting. Roni and Sakke are chasing their big break, but Roni is rude to anyone who doesn’t think he’s transformative, and Sakke insists on sticking by his brother even as he ruins their chances. By the end of episode two, they’re offered a chance to open their own club and work with a suspiciously generous patron from their mother’s laundromat. But despite the compelling gist of it all, nothing holds attention. The dancing sequences are mostly a miss, and the story’s progression feels painfully by the numbers. If “chasing your dreams” is supposed to be the redeeming quality, the execution alone dismantles it.