100 Best Shows from the Last Five Years

If you’re like us, there’s always room for good 20-minute comedy show in your life. But we also live in the “age of the cerebral”, so you’re typically getting some really deep stuff to go with it. Written with a lot of heart by Alison Bell (who you might know from Laid), the female lead, and Sarah Scheller, The Letdown perfectly captures the transition from being a care-free thirty-something to becoming a mother, where everything feels too much and failing feels only a second away. It doesn’t help that new mother Audrey Holloway seeks help at a parenting group with a rather unhelpful maternal health nurse (Noni Hazlehurst). Audrey’s career-focused husband Jeremy (Duncan Fellows) also has a penchant for being unhelpful and so it’s up to her to somehow make things right. Anybody who has had a child or knows somebody that does will be able to confirm the hilarious honesty of The Letdown’s writing and performances. And from that honesty comes a lot of dramatic realness but also a very funny, well-paced show.

Unlike Lovesick, which rightfully changed its name from Scrotal Recall, Schitt’s Creek is still called Schitt’s Creek many seasons in. After flying under the radar for a while, the sitcom about a wealthy, Arrested-Development-style family coping with the sudden loss of their fortune is starting to get the attention it deserves. Warm and witty writing, very gif-able catchprases, and a great main cast have turned this slightly slim-sounding premise into a long-running cult classic. The great Catherine O’Hara plays Moira Rose, the cynical matriarch, while many of you 00s kids will immediately recognize the male lead, Eugene Levy, as “Jim’s dad” from American Pie aka them most embarrassing dad ever to grace a screen. In all its simplicity, the steadily fleshed out riches-to-rags plot is hilarious, undemanding, and witty, exactly what you want a sitcom to be.

Co-created and co-produced by an amazing duo, Maya Erskine and Anna Konkle, who play fictional versions of their 13-year-old selves among a bunch of actual adolescents, Hulu’s PEN15 is a painfully funny teen sitcom about two friends going through middle-school together. With meticulous detail, it is set in the 2000s, including the discmen, the khakis, and the AOL dial-up sounds, but you certainly don’t have to be 30+ to enjoy the masturbation, boys, overall awkwardness, and other superbly spun teen comedy tropes. Erskine and Konkle’s middle-school experience was obviously all about being the lesser cool kids and they embody this to the fullest. It’s hilarious and cringey, sometimes gross, but also insightful. A lot of fun!

You might not have heard of it, but this show was huge in Denmark. I mean, one million people watching in a 5-million-people country huge. Far from being the tasteful Nordic Noir international audiences are used to, Rita revolves around a mid-40s, single mum of three older kids, leather jacket-clad private high school teacher with a big mouth and a heart to go with it. Mille Dinesen plays the titular female lead, who smokes in the school bathrooms and, well, bangs the school principal. But in addition to the rule-bending rebel facing off overprotective parents, know-it-all students, and her growing kids, Rita also deals with serious topics like balancing work and family, being a role model, and abortion, albeit in a hilarious and, well, delightfully Danish way.

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.

Two incredibly funny women are the stars of this authentic and heart-felt British comedy: writer, stand-up comedian, and main actress Aisling Bea, and the amazing Sharon Horgan (Catastrophe), who also co-produced the show. Irish teacher Áine (Bea) lives in London, yes, like Sharon Horgan’s character in Catastrophe, and works as an English-as-a-foreign-language teacher, but instead of getting knocked up by an American, she suffers a nervous breakdown and goes to rehab. When Áine checks out, she has to re-navigate all the aspects of real life that brought her to rehab in the first place. She does so with her sister Shona (Horgan) at her side. This is very clever and honest comedy about mental health, recovery, and loneliness, and about creating meaningful connections with the people around you. In true Bea and Horgan style, though, the humor is dark and will make you flinch and laugh at the same time. The chemistry between them is incredible!

In an age where every show gets called “original” the minute after it comes out, this amazing series from the creators of Orange is the New Black will actually make you go “no, that show is different!”. Starring an almost all-women cast (except for the coach, played masterfully by podcast icon Marc Maron), it’s the story of how a crazy wrestling show was put together in the 1980s called Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling. Alison Brie (Community) plays the girl at the center of the effort to make this show happen, having had a terribly failed career thus far. Perfectly acted and featuring funny as well as absurd moments, GLOW is a great show that you can binge on Netflix without noticing the episodes fly by.

Man, don’t watch this show hungry. Each episode traces the traditions, the history, and the lore surrounding much-loved types of food. It’s a food show, to be sure, and it will surely whet your appetite, but award-winning rebel chef and creator of the New-York-based restaurant Momofuku, David Chang, also has a mission: to challenge notions of authenticity, to call out snobbism, and to break down cultural barriers. While exploring pizza, for example, he travels to Japan to check out a new pizza in a Michelin-star restaurant, but also hits up a Domino’s. He talks about why microwaves are good for you and why MSG isn’t bad for you—and why demonizing MSG has a racist history. Despite being an important proponent of the food industry, Chang has a fuck-it attitude towards it. There is a reason the name of his high-brow brand sounds like “m*therf*cker”. Part mouth-watering food TV, part op-ed on foodie culture, this is one of the best cooking shows you can watch today.

Long Strange Trip was originally a four-hour movie before Amazon cut it to a six-part TV show. Produced by Martin Scorcese, it tells the full story of the band The Grateful Dead. It’s an account so detailed that it will satisfy the biggest Deadheads, but it also can be appreciated by anyone. The focus is the band, but it’s also the band’s significant impact on Rock history, and by extension, on American culture. I didn’t know much about the band and I couldn’t stop watching.

Clocking just 15 minutes per episode, Special is like a candy bar. It’s quick to consume but sweet as sugar. This new Netflix Original is set around a gay man with cerebral palsy, a disability that affects his body coordination but not his brain. As Ryan puts it in the first episode, it’s a disability that doesn’t make him normal but also is not severe enough for him to be part of the “cool disabled crew”. Ryan decides to turn his life around by pretending his disability is due to a car accident. People around him, especially at the exploitative millennial magazine “eggwoke” where he is an intern, start treating him differently. The car accident story provides a more accessible framework for them to understand his condition. It’s hard to believe a TV show can come out today and still manage to be so different from the rest, but Special does it. In other words, and I’m sorry to be this cheeky; Special is special.