20 Best TV Shows on Tubi Right Now

Before Park Chan-wook adapted her novel Fingersmith in The Handmaiden, author Sarah Waters wrote Tipping the Velvet, her debut novel that painted the life of lesbian women in Victorian London. Surprisingly, this controversial novel was produced and broadcast by the BBC in 2002, sticking faithfully to the plot, with all the racy sex scenes and relaxed depiction of lesbian life that shocked the public at the time, but over the years, the miniseries has become known as the refreshing classic that shifted the way lesbians were depicted on screen. While primarily centered on white women, Tipping the Velvet changed the way Victorian sexuality was depicted, with the joy, sensuality, and happiness in Waters’ passionate narrative.

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.

Love Life, like the Prime Video show Modern Love, is an anthology series featuring all sorts of romances and relationships. But unlike the latter,
which gives us wildly different characters and plotlines in each episode, Love Life dedicates an entire season to one person. It follows them from the moment they meet their first love up until they meet their forever person. We’re shown the many relationships, career opportunities, friendships, and fallouts that happen in between so that by the finale, we get a bigger picture of their growth as people. It’s breezy enough to follow, offers many nuggets of wisdom, and features some of the most charming leads to boot. My only gripe is that the length could be shorter than 10 episodes–in fact, I’m sure each season would work better as a movie–but it’s refreshing to see this deep a dive into modern romantic love. It’s a shame Max canceled the show after the second season and relegated it to streaming purgatory by erasing it from their catalog, but thankfully, the almighty Tubi has since picked it up and made it available to stream free.

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.

Given that The Bold Type is largely set in the office of a women’s magazine a la Cosmopolitan and Teen Vogue, it’s easy to be blinded by its flashiness at first. Cliches aren’t hard to miss either, seeing as it is a show that follows three 20-something girlfriends making it big in New York City.

But this initial underestimation is the point. Right away, the show flips the script on hyper-feminine stories by also engaging in relevant political, racial, and feminist issues. It also takes journalism seriously and dives deep into the industry’s complexities. The biggest surprise (and delight) comes in the form of Jacqueline Carlyle (Melora Hardin) the editor-in-chief who despite all looks and appearances isn’t actually a Miranda Priestly-type but an actual mentor who is as tough and wise as she is compassionate and understanding. The series is subversive in this way, but it also manages to be entertaining and light on its feet—an impressive feat all on its own.

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 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.

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.