30 Best TV Shows on Tubi Right Now

Michaela Watkins is truly the star of the show, delivering a major performance almost every time she appears on screen. The former SNL cast member plays a recently divorced psychologist, who moves in with her brother Alex (Tommy Dewey) and her sexually confident teenage daughter Laura (Tara Lynne Barr). Casual is not only the name of her sibling’s successful online dating site, but also the name of the game of every character’s sexual relationships.

Directed by Jason Reitman, the amazing director who gave us Thank You for Smoking, Juno, and Up in the Air, Casual features sharp dialogue and great performances, the writing being as profane as it is profound. Above all, you will have no choice than to take a good look at yourself, while rolling over the floor laughing at the show’s sexual shenanigans. That’s how smart it is!

This is the type of show where you will laugh your ass off in one scene, and then find yourself moved to tears in the next. It’s so heartfelt, so smart, and so, so well-written. The premise of the show is the revelation of a Nobel laureate that he used his own semen in his trailblazing research on fertilization. This prompts his daughter to search for her unknown siblings. She is stuck with two particularly interesting sisters, one of whom is a lawyer who tries to sue their father. One additional plus for me personally is the Australian accent. I love it in a comedy/drama, ever since I watched The Let Down on Netflix.

From the mastermind behind Netflix’s Kingdom, Kim Eun-Hee’s Signal is an exhilarating series that seamlessly weaves together gripping crime thriller elements with an intriguing touch of supernatural. With its unique premise of a mysterious walkie-talkie that connects the past and the present, the show follows a team of detectives from different eras as they collaborate to solve cold cases and unravel the secrets behind unsolved crimes. The superb writing and exceptional performances by the cast, including Lee Je-hoon, Kim Hye-soo, and Cho Jin-Woong, have made Signal a major hit among K-Drama fans. 

Pernille is the kind of show that makes you feel simultaneously giddy and sad, and the kind that makes you skip the credits as soon as you can to play the next episode. Like a Norwegian Better Things, it follows the titular Pernille (Steenstrup) as she raises two difficult but loving daughters, an emotionally distant nephew, and a father who’s found a new lease in life after finally coming out of the closet. To top it all off, Pernille works in child welfare, earning the ire of many unfit parents as she thanklessly saves children from abuse. Pernille is sometimes fun to watch—the heroine is prickly and plucky as she navigates her duties while carving out time for herself (often sexually). But sometimes it’s also difficult to watch. Between being a social services agent and a mom, Pernille comes to learn she’s not always right. But she is relatable and real, and therefore ultra comforting to watch.

Produced by Ezra Klein’s Vox Media, an explanatory news site with liberal leanings, this may well be Netflix’s first successful attempt at a traditional weekly television show. And a news show at that. But as the title suggests, Explained doesn’t aim at updating you on current events, but takes short but in-depth looks at topics that tend to get overlooked in news cycles such as the racial wealth gap, monogamy, and the rise of cryptocurrencies. The idea is not unique. The only thing YouTube might have more of than make-up advice videos are explanatory monologues by self-declared Illuminati. However, those familiar with Vox Media’s previous outings on YouTube know to expect high production value, serious research, and digestible visual journalism at its best. Don’t watch it with your special uncle, though because he will start yelling at the television.

It starts off with a man failing at hanging himself from a fruit tree in a bleak-looking garden. Something this grotesque isn’t usually the stuff of sitcoms. This is unsurprising because Will Sharpe’s Flowers, produced for the British Channel 4, is not your usual sitcom. With a unique visual style, an extraordinary cast, and a dark, satirical script, it carves out a genre of its own. The always amazing Olivia Colman plays Deborah Flowers, the eccentric family’s matriarch, and a music teacher. The man trying to hang himself is her depressed and unfaithful husband Maurice (Julian Barratt), who is a children’s book author. They live in a ramshackle house with a Japanese butler, who barely speaks English, and their dysfunctional adult twins. Amidst all this glorious mess, Flowers is ultimately about mental illness and depression and is apt in pairing this disturbing reality with hilarity. Obviously, it is very dark. A bit too dark for comedy, and too mad for drama: truly original stuff.

At first glance, those who enjoyed Hulu’s Ramy might be tempted to view this as the UK version of it. However, Man like Mobeen is a bit more street than Ramy and a lot more British. It’s also not so much about being a good Muslim. Mobeen (Guz Khan), Eight (Tez Ilyas), and Nate (Tolu Ogunmefun) are three mates from Birmingham. Two of them happen to be Muslim but it’s not a big deal. Except it is because of the way Western society sees them. Mobeen, the head of the group, takes care of his sister, Aks (Dúaa Karim), in the absence of his parents, trying to be a good guy, while also trying to escape his past as a drug dealer. In the first episode, a transaction to buy a laptop results in three SWAT teams closing in on them for no reason. (When Nate runs off, the police officer asks the others why he ran, and Mobeen says: “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because he’s black.”) Much of Man like Mobeen is laugh-out-loud comedy, but there’s a healthy dose of wokeness to be found here, too. Teenage knife crime (in the second season), the rise of right-wing sentiment, and the police’s history of violence towards immigrants are effortlessly woven into gags. Very funny!

Sixteen-year-old Rae Earl struggles with many things, among them: severe mental illness, a distorted body image, and less-than-ideal home life. In an attempt to redefine herself and pursue the teenage dream she’s always wanted, she reconnects with her estranged friend Chloe and the cool new people she’s met in Rae’s absence. As Rae gets to know this group more, she embarks on a coming-of-age journey that is, at turns, hilarious, awkward, and painfully real.

Set in ‘90s-era UK and scored to the unbeatable, headbanging tunes of English rock, My Mad Fat Diary is also an effective throwback of a show. It’s sure to be nostalgic to those who grew up in that era, while also doubling as a finely-aged portrait of a simpler time to the rest of us. Elevated, too, by diary doodles come to life and Rae’s unflinching witticisms, the series is a gem for anyone who has struggled to come to terms with their teenage self.

This six-chapter British miniseries stars the ever-reliable Stellan Skarsgård as an erratic London police detective. He starts seeing visions or “manifests” of his recently murdered colleague and tries to solve her case even though he was excluded from it. River blends reality and illusion in a thoughtful and original police thriller.

Sexual assault and trafficking are never easy to depict onscreen, especially when they’re based on true events, but Three Girls strikes a balance between realism and empathy. It’s gritty but never gratuitous, critical but never preachy. You can tell the cast and crew took their time to carefully tell this important tale, which continues to be overlooked by authorities in Manchester. As a result, Three Girls can be difficult and frustrating to sit through, but that only speaks to the quality of its acting and storytelling. Three Girls is a must-watch, but you’d be forgiven for not wanting to put it on a second time.

This violent action-comedy miniseries is about a Massachusetts teenager who tries to retrieve a stolen 1979 Trans Am.

And the show is not nice to Wayne who, from the very first scene, takes a beating. Think of it as The End of the F***ing World but more violent and with Boston accents.

Dark and almost too realistic, Wentworth is the women’s prison drama that I’ve been waiting for.

This Australian show might have the same set-up as Orange is the New Black — following a recently incarcerated woman as she discovers a new world — but the two series couldn’t be more different. Wentworth is more Breaking Bad than Orange is the New Black.

The difference: It doesn’t follow people who are wronged by the system or who are misunderstood, but women that have actually done violent things, and continue being violent in prison.

It appeals to everyone’s dark side: It seems impossible for any character to achieve redemption. The show’s biggest selling-point is that it never goes the violence for the sake of violence route. Its immaculate character development guarantees reason and authenticity behind every act.

This a true hidden gem.

How the Brits have mastered the art of making very funny shows about very grumpy people will never cease to amaze me. Belonging to that stacked category is Black Books, which follows a trio of shopkeepers as they go about their days in a semi-alcoholic haze. The situations themselves are mundane and involve everything from fixing the shops’ finances to going on dates, but it’s how they cope that makes the show hilarious. It’s more slapstick and surreal than anything, leaning heavily on the actors’ expert physical comedy and timing. The lead, Bernard (played by Dylan Morran who you might know as the book thief in Notting Hill), is a cynical drunk who abhors people, even and especially his own customers. But he’s tempered by his levelheaded accountant Manny (Bill Bailey) and the next-door shopkeeper Fran (Tamsin Greig). This isn’t the sort of sitcom that dives too deep into the psyches of its characters, but that doesn’t make them any less relatable or lovable. Though it first aired in 2000, Black Books doesn’t feel dated at all, thanks in large part to its surreal humor and its nihilistic characters, who share more than a few similarities with today’s quiet-quitting generation.

Des is a miniseries that understands viewers have had about enough with serial killers and true crime. Aware of the fatigue, it skillfully compresses the stories of Des’ multiple victims into three taut episodes without ever feeling forced or too much. The subject of Des’ sexuality (he expresses a fondness for men but never officially came out) is also sensitively handled. Des’ biographer in the series, who is an out-gay writer, makes a valid point: better he tells Des’ story no matter how terrifying than someone else outside of the community. Who knows what false and demonizing correlations will be made? But just as big a chunk of the series is rightly focused on the two detectives desperately seeking justice for the victims. Though they can seem holier-than-thou at times because of the lack of characterization, they, too, ask the right questions about justice and rightful punishment. It may be too talky for some viewers, but there’s no denying Des is a smart show, one bolstered by strong performances.

A hilarious British sitcom about 24-year-old Tracey Gorden, a shop assistant living in a housing estate in London with unusual friends and an even more unusual family.

A bit messed up by a very religious upbringing, she navigates adulthood and trying to untangle herself from the unexciting life her neighbourhood offers (mainly by trying to lose her virginity).

Michaela Coel wrote and created the show and plays Tracey. Her expressive facial expressions and fantastic ability to convey her character make for an incredibly original show. Taking originality as a factor, this is possibly the best sitcom on Netflix right now.

When there’s lives at stake, and there’s no one around, you know who to call. Not Ghostbusters– you call an emergency hotline. It’s exactly the high risk, high stakes job that makes for an excellent police procedural, and it’s why Korean drama Voice is so compelling– the premise necessitates that the ensemble is given a few pieces of information, have to rise up to the emergency with an actual solution, and are forced to bicker depending on what their specialized knowledge tells them. And it’s so fun seeing the veteran detective and a genius rookie voice profiler butt heads because of it, with Jang Hyuk and Lee Ha-na crafting chemistry through biting words and the urgency of the situation at hand. While certain procedures seemed a bit clunky on screen, Voice nonetheless takes an interesting peek at the crime fighters at the end of the hotline and maximizes the potential conflict that stems from a unique ability.

Based on the Hugo and Nebula award-winning novel by Neil Gaiman, American Gods the show is an ambitious new take on visual storytelling. Set in modern day America, it follows Shadow (Ricky Wittle), a newly released ex-convict shaken by the sudden death of his wife, as he is begrudgingly introduced to a world of warring deities, where  the old gods’ existence is threatened by the rise of new gods. Mr Wednesday (Ian McShane), Shadow’s new employer, travels America as he recruits an army in preparation for this war. The show’s extravagant set pieces and eerie long soundtracks offer a bizarre, otherworldly experience, backed by superb writing and a great cast. If you’re tired of unoriginal, formulaic stories and visuals in tv show, look no further: American gods is ambitious, unique, and definitely deserving of your attention.

While eschewing protocol is often rewarded in Hollywood films, in real life, this act can cost you your career, especially if you’re in the force like Detective Superintendent Steve Fulcher (Freeman). A Confession tells two stories, essentially, that of Fulcher’s legal entanglements after he successfully got a serial killer to confess without representation, and that of Sian and Becky, the slain victims in Fulcher’s case. Though the series is slow to start (it only picks up by the end of the second episode), it’s buoyed by fantastic performances and genuinely thought-provoking questions, the main one being, how far would you go to pursue justice?

Starting the series off with an electric guitar scored wedding, The Buccaneers seems, at first, a vapid cousin to the hit period series Bridgerton. The modern-day scoring, period-inaccurate hairstyles, and the sorority dynamic of the five female protagonists might feel too jarring for viewers looking for a more classical feel. There are certain moments at the start that needed more emotional resonance, like after Nan’s shoe fell into the cake. However, these jarring contrasts smooth over as the series progresses, as the show reveals its melancholy at society’s hypocritical, rigid expectations, but also its care and endearment for these girls’ friendships.

Though it may be self-serious nearly to the point of parody, Line of Duty is that rare hard-boiled police show that actually works because of its commitment to being cold and clinical. As each season focuses on a new case of corruption within the police, it chooses not to focus on character but on packing as much meticulous detail as possible into its investigations. The result is a slower paced drama that may take some getting used to, but it’s one whose every additional clue or revelation makes the nature of this modern police work feel that much more draining to the soul—a great change of tone from the heroic police shows we tend to see on TV.

In Reboot, a famous sitcom from the early 2000s is revived for a modern audience. While members of the cast attempt to rekindle their fame, the writers behind the show stir up endless debates about what constitutes “funny” in an age of political correctness. The hijinks and meta-humor that arise from this are admirable, but what really makes Reboot tick is its obvious love for the sitcom format. Underneath all the jokes is a commitment to TV comedies; like the most typical of them, Reboot switches from laugh-out-loud hilarity to tender moments of joy and sorrow. The only difference is that Reboot benefits from being self-aware—it’s unafraid to make fun of itself and all the people and shows that came before it. 

From Me to You: Kimi ni Todoke is a high school romance drama. It’s sweet, it’s wholesome, and it’s comfortingly familiar. It leans more on its romance than its comedy. It doesn’t have high stakes fantasy or action-packed battles, but it captures the high school experience in such a lovely way. Of course, the show would likely reach its romantic happy ending, but what makes the show compelling isn’t just the thrill of connecting with a crush– it’s the inspiration for Sawako to open up, and enable her to connect and have friends. The live action adaptation may not fully capture everything from the original and it speeds through the plot, but it retains the parts that make it work, even for viewers totally unfamiliar with the story.

To appreciate The Inbetweeners, you’d have to understand that it was a product of its time. The British R-rated show was created in the late 2000s, back when being gay and male harassment were treated as mere jokes, as opposed to serious matters. So in that way, it can feel a bit dated. But in its own curious and funny way, The Inbetweeners is both an example and a subversion of toxic masculinity, which tends to harden at around the age the characters are in. Beneath their vulgar and perenially horny exterior, there is something softer and more vulnerable aching to be seen. At least among themselves (and us the audience), the four young lads at the heart of this show can show both parts without being judged. Yes, The Inbetweeners is crude and raunchy and unafraid to be as authentic as its teen leads, but at its core, it’s simply a come-of-age story that follows four guys figuring out their place in the world.

This cold Finnish series is about a successful detective who moves to a small town seeking calm. But once he settles in a town on the border with Russia, a series of murders ensue.

Because Finnish TV is alien to most of us, the way this detective story is told is so unique. It’s bleak – very bleak – and even when the most intriguing murders take place, the biggest plotlines are the ones that are driven by character development.

This ridiculous comedy is about a man who works as a medium between people and their ghosts.

Kevin Pacalioglu sees and communicates with ghosts for a living, but that doesn’t mean he is good at his job. His only friend is also a drug dealer whose services end up worsening Kevin’s motivation even more. In his own words, his living clients “end up wanting to spend more time with the ghosts than me.” So to make ends meet, Kevin ends up accepting ghostly missions from dead clients with unresolved issues.

There’s not a lot of good sumo representation out there. The ancient Japanese sport is often caricatured for laughs; in fact, it has a rich and complex history spanning centuries. It’s cultural but questionably brutal, revered but unable to compete against newer combat sports. And while sumo negotiates its role in an increasingly modern world, its participants continue to rely on it for a living, making it at once outdated and necessary.  

Enter Sanctuary, a Japanese Netflix original that captures all this nuance to the best of its ability. The drama is a gritty and realistic behind-the-scenes look at the sport, a raw portrait of all the literal blood, sweat, and tears that go into it. If you can stomach a fair amount of violence and gore, then you’ll appreciate what Sanctuary tries to do, which is smartly reintroduce sumo to a new generation.

Based on the 2021 Turkish series Fatma, Unseen takes the same premise and sets it in Cape Town. Fatma is now Zenzi Mwale, a house cleaner looking for her missing husband, despite how everyone else already wrote him out as a deadbeat convict. Mwale, portrayed by Gail Mabalane, is a sympathetic character, and Mabalane’s restrained performance earns empathy each time her search leads to certain dead ends (pun intended). Even as the show goes into generic territory, the house cleaner’s journey still feels compelling, as the series has a great grasp as to how this thriller’s tropes work, especially for a character whose work and worries mostly remain unseen.

When a scientist drops dead, the immediate questions are what’s the main reason, and what exactly were they studying. It’s the mystery that drives the popular 3 Body Problem novel by Liu Cixin, which spawned two separate live-action series. Unlike the Western Netflix version, Tencent’s Three-Body sticks close to the source material, devoting more than twice as much time to the events. It’s because of this that Three-Body gets to delve deeper into the novel’s themes over the visuals– it gets to delve deeper into the ways science and tech has been manipulated for certain interests and whether humanity is ready for newer tech when history has proven otherwise. If you’re totally new to the story, the shorter, star-studded Netflix adaptation might be more your jam, but readers who want a more in-depth and faithful adaptation would prefer Tencent’s Three-Body.

Genderbending isn’t a completely foreign trope for Western audiences, but it’s rare to see the shenanigans that happen in Ranma ½, which takes a genderbending water curse to form a complicated web of relationships, that starts out as a casual romance comedy (albeit with plenty of kicks) and eventually evolves into a ridiculous fighting fantasy adventure. It’s rather revolutionary for its time, in part due to Ranma’s queer gender, but also due to its precursor of the harem trope, as well as its then-new take on the tsundere in Ranma’s intended fiancée Akane Tendo. Ranma ½ is eccentric, but the chaotic comedy is also so entertaining to watch.

With over-the-top soundtracks, and an enemies to lovers plot, Sweet Trap seemed like it would be cliché. It totally is, but it’s unabashedly so, learning into these moments like a comforting, well-worn coat, that actually supports its main goal as a celebration of traditional Chinese cooking. The stakes are familiar, but the melodrama is slightly justified, as the series quickly and easily establishes reasonable motivations for the initial enemies, with Jiang Jie out to be number one and Li Nai out to restore her mentor’s honor. Sweet Trap might have all the cliché trappings in Chinese dramas, but it does this in such a charming way that comes from pure appreciation, not utter disdain.