The 50 Best Miniseries on Netflix Right Now

With a long and chaotic 30 years in the industry, it’s hard to encapsulate Robbie Williams’ whole musical career in a documentary. There are plenty of songs to tackle, plenty of scandals to explain, and Netflix tries to portray it all through its latest four part docuseries. Given its lengthy subject matter, it’s impossible to tackle everything, of course, so it mainly focuses on the artists’ mindset and mental health as Robbie Williams himself looks back at previous footage of himself. There’s some comfort in the fact that the singer now feels more settled in himself, something comforting in the idea that depression can be handled and overcome, but it makes this docuseries a fairly vulnerable one for the artist, and it’s an intriguing behind the scenes look for his fans.

Based on a novel, The Lying Life of Adults might feel, at first, like a standard Netflix coming-of-age series, complete with vintage styling (the 90’s, this time) and teenage shenanigans, like skipping classes, preoccupation over sex, and rebelling against parental disapproval. Sure, the show does go through these moments, but the writing of original novelist Elena Ferrante, with the assistance of the writing team and showrunner Edoardo De Angelis, elevates this template through its subtleties, as Giovanna visits her estranged aunt Vittoria, and compares and contrasts the way she lives, with the way her parents approach life. It’s both a portrait of a divided family, but also one of a divided city, and it makes Giovanna’s coming-of-age a more nuanced journey that we haven’t seen before.

Misunderstood by some at the time of its original release, this three-episode adaptation of Dracula from the creators of BBC’s Sherlock goes from being a highly satisfying slice of horror to something totally unrecognizable—which is why it’s so rewarding to revisit today. Blessed with stellar production design, incredible practical effects, and brilliant performances from a depraved Claes Bang (as the titular vampire) and an impossibly heroic Dolly Wells (Sister Agatha), the miniseries may take many liberties with the source material, but it always builds toward greater themes. And while some problems remain, like its rushed and tonally jarring finale, how the show is ultimately able to explore the distrust that Dracula leaves in his wake, as well as the nature of Dracula as a legend in himself, is well worth the binge.

If you’re a fan of dialogue-driven, single-setting shows, this series is perfect for you. It revolves entirely around suspect interrogations and dynamics between detectives, which lead to 3 “storylines” per episode: (1) whether the suspect is guilty or not, (2) the characterization of the suspects, and, (3) the characterization of the detectives. The third storyline might be necessary to push the series up an extra notch, but it’s easily the least interesting part of the series. The show creates tension layer by layer, and it has a way of keeping its premise fresh each time; I’m not sure that this is a format you want to binge. But it’s also 3-4 episodes a season, so you might as well?

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.

This miniseries is based on a Margret Atwood novel and was also produced by her. The script was written by Canadian filmmaker extraordinaire Sarah Polley (Stories We Tell).

Grace is a poor but bright Irish immigrant in Upper Canada who is accused and convicted of a double murder. 15 years into her life sentence, a young American doctor is sent to try to get her out.

In Love All Over Again has many of the romance tropes fans of the genre would enjoy. The star-crossed lovers, the gay best friend, the absent-minded but well-meaning parent, and the classic romance drama jobs are present in the series. However, unlike other series, the show literally starts off with a bang. The main couple don’t get separated because of toxic dynamics or tragedy, but literally because of the 2004 Madrid train bombings. But this isn’t just a one-off event, it’s the event that shifts Irene’s life forever, as she tries to heal and process the event as best as she can. Some of the series’ plot points may not be new, but it’s sincere in examining how that event affected people’s lives, without being overly dramatic. The resulting series is sweet and it captures the Y2K nostalgia that’s currently en vogue.

Child kidnapping is any parent’s nightmare, and it’s the nightmare that drives the events of Spanish crime thriller The Snow Girl. Based on the 2020 novel of the same name, the limited series takes a unique double-pronged approach to the case at hand. The show goes through the regular police investigations we’ve seen previously, but it also comes mainly from the perspective of journalist Miren Rojo, whose previous trauma understandably limits her trust with the authorities. As the show moves the story from New York to Malaga, and switches between perspectives, and timelines, The Snow Girl adeptly maintains the novel’s original suspense, without over sensationalizing the crime at hand.

Netflix is no stranger to adapting novels, nor to period dramas – Cigarette Girl is one of many, but it’s one from Indonesia that stands out due to its unique premise and excellent execution. Based on the novel by Ratih Kumala, the show is a slow-burn, smoldering period romance set amidst Indonesia’s kretek cigarette industry, booming in the 1960s, but it’s framed within the 2000s, where the man’s family uncovers his lost love before he dies. The alternating timelines keep the mystery fresh, as each new revelation uncovers what really happened between the two, as well as what would happen with the fate of their families. This intriguing structure, along with excellent writing, and stunning sets and costumes, make Cigarette Girl a compelling show to watch.

A Round of Applause is just so darn weird. We’ve seen stories about people remembering their past lives, but we’ve never seen them able to recall and yearn for their life as pulp in an orange, of all things. We’ve seen fetuses as characters, but we’ve never seen them as a neurotic chainsmoker, tugging at the umbilical cord in complaint. These strange, existential ideas get to amusingly absurd paths, leading to punchlines that aren’t expected but pulls out unexpected laughter while making us contemplate the lives we’re currently living. Even if the offbeat humor isn’t to your taste, A Round of Applause just feels so original that it’s worth a look.