The development trends of television programs in 2024 are difficult to predict. The Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (SAG-AFTRA) held its longest strike in history in 2023, primarily due to labor issues such as artificial intelligence, streaming, and their impact on residual payments. This four-month work stoppage led to the postponement or even cancellation of many programs.
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02-04, 2025Despite this, there were still many excellent series worth watching this year, so much so that we had to struggle to narrow down our long list of candidates. After careful consideration, we decided not to include returning seasons of shows. It is worth acknowledging that the third seasons of "Mr. Robot," "The Bear," and "Somebody Somewhere," the second season of "Pachinko," the fourth season of "The Boys," the fifth season of "The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City," and the sixth (and final) season of the vampire comedy "What We Do in the Shadows" were all of high quality and impact.
Despite the delays and disruptions, and the many popular series vying for our attention, 2024 still produced, released, and allowed us to enjoy many incredible new works. Here are some of our favorite series: "The Sympathizer."
The fact that "The Sympathizer" has not become more popular is a testament to the era of streaming overload we are currently in. The series, adapted from the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, is a co-production of A24 and HBO, starring Sandra Oh and Oscar winner Robert Downey Jr., and created by South Korean director Park Chan-wook ("Oldboy," "The Handmaiden," and "Decision to Leave"). Five years ago, any one of these descriptions would have made it a must-watch show; in 2024, it became one of the most overlooked series of the year. "The Sympathizer" tells the story of a communist spy known as "the Captain," who goes undercover as a South Vietnamese army captain for decades after the Vietnam War, following refugees to Los Angeles to monitor potential counter-revolutionary activities.
The loyalty of "the Captain," played by Vietnamese-Australian actor Hoa Xuande, is constantly shifting. As the title suggests, he is not entirely driven by ideology, but rather by interpersonal relationships. Switching between exaggerated satire and spy thriller, "The Sympathizer" is a rich and literary series that challenges Western media's portrayal of the Vietnam War—which, as the series points out, is known in Vietnam as the American War. The show is also somewhat comical and absurd, thanks in large part to Downey Jr. in disguise. He plays four ridiculous characters, including a CIA agent, a congressman, and a filmmaker shooting a war epic very similar to "Apocalypse Now"—all interchangeable white villains who are seemingly opposed but ultimately part of the anti-communist machine.
I was impressed by Robyn Malcolm's award-winning performance in "After the Party": a woman beaten down by life but determined to hold onto her moral compass, even as resentment tries to corrode her sense of self. This six-episode New Zealand series is dark, morally complex, and haunting, revolving around a nightmarish scenario. When Penny (Malcolm) goes upstairs at a party, she sees her husband, Phil (Peter Mullan), abusing a teenage boy and confronts him in front of friends and family. Both Phil and the boy deny it, and everyone thinks Penny is making it up: but she knows what she saw. Right?
Years later, Phil returns to Wellington to help their daughter with childcare, and Penny is faced with a choice: let it go or seek justice. "After the Party," while satisfying the craving for a crime thriller, is also a character study of a middle-aged woman who feels overlooked in a life spinning out of control, filled with awkward comedy that alleviates tension. While "After the Party's" nuanced depiction of abuse and justice is timely, aligning with the current cultural reflection on the limitations of the #MeToo movement, the show's primary focus is on what it means to be a good person and whether the destruction caused in pursuit of truth is worth it. You'll be thinking about Penny—and Malcolm's performance—for a long time.
I've been telling anyone who will listen that actress Kathryn Hahn is severely underrated. As the lead in "Agatha All Along," she finally has the opportunity to show us what she's made of. "Agatha All Along" is technically a sequel to Marvel's first TV series, "WandaVision." You don't need to have seen "WandaVision" first (though it's a very good show)—you just need to know that the ending between Agatha (Hahn) and Wanda (Elizabeth Olsen) was not amicable. The series begins as a typical crime procedural, with Hahn playing a seasoned detective, until a heavily eyeliner-wearing teenager shows up and asks too many questions (Joe Locke of "Heartstopper," with an inconsistent accent but very endearing), breaking the facade.
Then we discover that Agatha is actually a powerful witch who is used to violently stealing other people's magic, after which she was stripped of her powers (by Wanda) and forgot who she was. Once awakened, the boy convinces her to join him on a mystical witchy path so that she can regain her powers and he can become the witch he has always dreamed of being. They are accompanied by a group of witches with varying motives, including the ruthless Rio (played by Aubrey Plaza, having a lot of fun), whose unresolved feud with Agatha may derail the entire journey. They soon discover that the witchy path is full of challenges designed to provoke their worst emotional traumas, which may kill them if they don't kill each other first.
The delightful sexual tension between Hahn and Plaza alone is enough reason to watch "Agatha All Along," but this clever, dark, and funny fantasy series full of wonderful performances by women will keep you guessing until the end. In "Bodkin," a misanthropic journalist, her junior colleague, and an overly enthusiastic American podcaster, who don't get along, arrive in a charming small town in West Cork, Ireland, with two missions.
First: to find out what happened to three people who disappeared 20 years ago during the Gaelic Samhain festival. Second: to produce a hit true crime podcast based on their findings. However, none of the locals want anything to do with the matter or them. The podcaster Gilbert (Will Forte), the journalist Dove (Siobhán Cullen), and their research assistant Emmy (Robyn Cara) have vastly different expectations for the investigation. Countless critics have compared "Bodkin" to "Only Murders in the Building," with many finding it lacking. I won't lie to you: Steve Martin and Martin Short are an irreplaceable comedy duo.
But Forte's Gilbert more than makes up for the absence of Charles Hayden, and the background characters in the rural town of Bodkin are just as quirky as Oliver. Besides, no one does sarcasm better than the Irish, so Cullen's morose Dove is a more realistic match than Selena Gomez's Mabel. There is no news yet about a second season of "Bodkin," but that might be a good thing: the first season of the show was well-written, didn't require much suspension of disbelief, and had a satisfying ending. The same cannot be said for "Only Murders in the Building."
In the first 10 minutes of Jerrod Carmichael's "Reality Show," the comedian is seen genuinely sucking on a man's toe on camera, and that's not even the most uncomfortable thing in the episode. This "reality show" follows Carmichael, documenting his life after winning an Emmy for "Prothallial," his groundbreaking 2022 Netflix special in which he publicly came out as gay. As the camera monitors him in his apartment, hanging out with friends, and working, it becomes clear that Carmichael is not the hero of his own story. We see him repeatedly cheat on his first boyfriend, pressure his friends into performing, and berate his father for having four children outside of marriage. He also struggles to reconcile his unrequited crush on the creator of Tyler, who also appears on the show, and struggles with his mother's rejection of his homosexuality.
Carmichael's experiment in "radical honesty" includes confessions and comments you couldn't force out of people, let alone capture them on camera. But Carmichael did, and in doing so, he created one of the most repulsive and compelling displays of human relationships ever seen on television. "The Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show" is sickening, depressing, and hilarious, but be warned of the existential crisis it might induce.
Australian television hasn't seen anything like "You Can't Ask That": a provocative, irreverent, and extremely cheeky Western set in central and southern Australia in the 1980s. Created by director Dylan River and his cousin Tanith Glynn-Maloney, the series tells the story of Robyn (Sherly-Lee Watson of "Heartbreak High"), an Indigenous teenager who escapes juvenile detention to find her estranged father. She teams up with awkward teenager Gigi (Will McDonald, also of "Heartbreak") to flee in a stolen taxi. Not only are the police after them, but also Gigi's preacher father (Noah Taylor) and the taxi's owner, Maxine (Miranda Otto), a pimp with a thirst for revenge.
Its eight episodes—each under 30 minutes—fly by as the death toll rises, while the script cleverly reveals layers of each character without slowing down the action. "You Can't Ask That" is easy to binge-watch, full of surprising twists, rich desert colors and characters, and some clever lines, starting with Robyn's first line: "Those preachers think you can't steal. Those bible-thieving bastards who stole our country are so rich!" There has been so much written about Richard Gadd's breakthrough series "Baby Reindeer" this year. Most of it has revolved around the media storm that erupted after relentless online sleuths doxxed the people in Gadd's heartbreaking story. The media's desperate need to continue the closed loop of "Baby Reindeer" for clicks has almost overshadowed the incredibly sensitive series.
At its core, "Baby Reindeer" is about how far we will go for human connection. Gadd's failing comedian, Donny, becomes entangled with the unstable stalker Martha (played brilliantly by Jessica Gunning), with devastating consequences for both of them. There are no villains in "Baby Reindeer," only two people who choose the most destructive paths to make up for their agonizing loneliness. With compelling performances and a gripping script, "Baby Reindeer" has won countless awards and accolades in 2024. It is not only an excellent TV series but also highlights our impulse to sacrifice real people in order to satisfy our curiosity.
Absurd, unique, and whimsical like a perfect night out, "Fantasmas" is Julio Torres' latest quirky comedy—he is the mastermind behind "Los Espookys," "Problemista," and some of the best skits on SNL in recent years. Torres plays a version of himself who dreams of marketing a transparent crayon at the Crayola factory but finds that his path to creative freedom is blocked by bureaucracy. As an undocumented immigrant in the US, he first needs proof of existence, which requires more proof he doesn't have. But, he also lost a gold oyster-shaped earring at a nightclub, and maybe finding that is more important?
With the help of AI robot Bibbo and performance artist Vanesa (not a typo, played by the ethereal presence of Martin Gutierrez), he enters a colorful, almost nonsensical rabbit hole through a surreal version of New York. While the absurdity intensifies with the arrival of cameo roles—from Steve Buscemi as the letter Q, to Julia Fox as Mrs. Claus, to producer Emma Stone as a Real Housewives-esque character, and many others—"Fantasmas" is more than just quirky. Underneath the absurdity, all the characters are struggling to lessen their loneliness and break free from the shackles of capitalism. It can be incredibly moving, even if you're sympathizing with a letter: that's the genius of Torres.
While not for those who are afraid of whimsy, it's an exciting and strange series that leaves you both confused and delighted as you wonder how it was made. (The answer is Stone, who also produced "The Curse" and "I Saw the TV Glow.") The most beautiful TV series of 2024 is also the best drama of the year. This adaptation of James Clavell's epic historical novel tells a fictionalized version of the establishment of the Tokugawa Shogunate, which ruled Japan from the early 17th century to the Meiji Restoration of 1868.
Fans of the samurai and action genres will be thrilled to see Hiroyuki Sanada ("John Wick 4," "Bullet Train," "47 Ronin") finally playing a major lead role worthy of his talent, as the cunning warlord and strategist Lord Yoshii Toranaga, a character inspired by Tokugawa Ieyasu. "Shōgun" is nuanced, detailed, and rightfully swept the Emmys with 18 awards, including Best Drama, Best Actor for Sanada, and Best Actress for Anna Sawai, who plays Toranaga's translator and loyal vassal, Lady Mariko. Cosmo Jarvis, as the stranded English sailor John Blackthorne, completes the trio of "Shōgun" leads, playing the "barbarian" outsider who becomes an unexpected and sometimes reluctant player in the 17th-century strategy and castle intrigue.
Naturally, the question of who is the "barbarian"—and from whose perspective—is explored in this international series: is it the unkempt English who like to eat rotten bird meat; is it the kimono-clad warring nobles who take lives in the name of etiquette; or is it the Portuguese Catholic clergy who infiltrate feudal Japan for religious, political, and commercial gain? "Shōgun" is a big-budget visual feast that offers everything a good historical drama should—the adrenaline rush of epic battle scenes and the small, intimate moments that drive emotional engagement. The stakes of the plot are carefully calibrated and presented with such high quality and scale that each episode feels like a movie. It is a rare TV series that makes you feel like your time watching it was worthwhile.
Fun people, silly jokes, and spelling? Sign me up! Guy Montgomery's "Spelling Bee" is one of those brilliant shows that takes something unimportant very seriously, and somehow, it sucks you in. This is the New Zealand comedian's creation during lockdown, which began as a YouTube series, then became a touring live comedy show, and then evolved into a kind of mock game show. Set against a 70s-style orange and brown backdrop, a rotating cast of Australian comedians—some newcomers, some very familiar faces—must spell like their lives depend on it, all for the glory of being the best speller, or just to avoid being forced to sit on a stool and wear a literal dunce cap.
The hysterically funny comedian Aaron Chen "helps" the host, but is mainly a comedic foil, and the chemistry between the two comedians is a big part of the show's charm. But what makes "Spelling Bee" great is its absurd and sharp script. Whoever is in the writers' room is not afraid to let their verbose imaginations fly when it comes to the clues and prompts the contestants can request; sometimes even Montgomery himself seems caught off guard. There are lots of laughs to be had here, as well as plenty of opportunities to show off your elementary school spelling skills to your loved ones, whether they like it or not. In "Chimp Empire," we meet a woman who breastfeeds premature chimpanzees, and another who is so in love with a retired Hollywood actor/chimpanzee that she even fakes his death because a judge ordered him to be sent to a sanctuary in Florida.
So, it's no surprise that this latest offering from "Tiger King" director Eric Goode became HBO's highest-rated documentary series in four years. "Chimp Empire" is sensational, tragic, enlightening, and thrilling all at once. The aforementioned Tonya, a woman from Missouri who does everything she can to keep her chimpanzee, Toca, with her, is largely responsible for these descriptions. As was the case with "Tiger King," Goode uses Tonya's story as a springboard for an important discussion about exotic animal ownership and welfare in the four-episode series. Watch it to see the wild cat-and-mouse game that occurs between Tonya, the American justice system, and PETA. Watch it to learn what happens when people try to domesticate wild animals and fail. Watch it to learn about the captive apes who have no autonomy over their lives. In short, watch it.
Honestly, I hadn't watched a full episode of "Doctor Who" until this year. But when it was announced that Ncuti Gatwa of "Sex Education" would be the newest incarnation of the famous Time Lord, I couldn't help but give it a try. Surprise, surprise, I'm now completely hooked. At the start of the first episode of Gatwa's full season, he is seen dancing in a club, his kilt twirling happily around him. It's queer joy, it's Black joy, it's Scottish joy, and it's a bit cheeky—which could be used to describe the entire show. This season's companion is a young woman named Ruby Sunday (sweet and strong Millie Gibson), who was abandoned outside a church on Christmas Eve and then taken in by a kind foster mother.
Once the Doctor stumbles upon her, she joins him on his time-space adventures (with barely any questions asked), going through a variety of colorful adventures from space babies to music-eating demons to a delightful "Bridgerton" parody via the TARDIS's shimmering magic. Gatwa is a more mature version of the person we fell in love with in "Sex Education," his smile lights up the screen, and he is absolutely a master of the single tear sliding down his cheek. His Doctor is always impeccably dressed and unapologetically queer, making jokes about his past dalliances (Harry Houdini?). The show is silly, campy, and fun sci-fi, but it also doesn't shy away from delving into very complex issues such as race, technology, and grief. I cried in almost every episode. The good news is that once you've finished the season, there's a brand new Christmas Eve special starring the one and only Nicola Coughlan.
In "Fake," Asher Keddie—who has been in every popular Australian TV series of the past 20 years, from "Love My Way" and "Offspring" to the ABC's "The Plum Tree" and "The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart"—plays Bertie, a freelance writer in her 40s who is unlucky in love. Her mother thinks she should be less picky. Anxious Bertie might argue that she isn't picky enough. Just then, she meets Joe, a rancher and architect, played by the charming and cunning David Wenham (ABC's "SeaChange"; every Australian film worth watching).
Only something about Joe isn't quite right: he always cancels dates with Bertie at the last minute; his stories about his past seem inconsistent; and then he even misses her best friend's wedding without a word. It turns out that Joe isn't who he says he is. "Fake" is inspired by journalist Stephanie Wood's book, which collects and tells the stories of women who were deceived by the men they loved. This includes a real-life version of Joe, whom Wood dated and then was forced to investigate. Not only is it a sharp and compelling show, but after watching "Fake" and reading the book that inspired it, I'm more confident in my pickiness.
In the post-"Big Little Lies" era, where every show is a suspense thriller, the Australian six-episode series "Exposure" cleverly uses the tropes of the genre to tell a very personal story. Creator and writer Lucy Coleman indirectly wrote about the assault she suffered at 22 in "Exposure" and explores it through the protagonist, Jax—a photographer who is investigating the suicide of her childhood roommate and best friend, Kyle. Played by Alice Englert, Jax is filled with grief and anger as she imagines herself as a vigilante. She arrives in her hometown of Kembla Port to track down a series of men she believes may be somehow responsible. It's a heartfelt yet grounded performance, made all the more powerful by Jax's rejection of the tenderness of her mother (Essie Davis) and Kyle's ex-boyfriend, Angus (Thomas Weatherall, "Heartbreak High"). Jax expresses her love with an iron fist, which makes Kembla Port—a seaside town where steel chimneys mar its meditative beauty—the perfect backdrop.
"Exposure" is unsettling, complex, and quietly moving. It stands out from the mire of its genre with its raw power and clever, understated approach. "No One Wants This" could have been a perfect rom-com if it hadn't made the Jewish women the villains in the story. But it did, so it is best described as an often problematic, but very compelling rom-com... despite its myriad flaws, it still manages to be one of the best of the genre this year. This is thanks to its delicious premise—an agnostic, pagan sex podcaster named Joanne falls in love with a heartbroken rabbi named Noah—and its impeccable casting.
The female lead in "No One Wants This" is played by Kristen Bell, and her love interest is played by Adam Brody. While more of the tension in their relationship comes from religion and outdated Jewish-Gentile relationship ideas, Bell and Brody's chemistry is not only irresistible in the moment but also memorable months later. I've lost count of how many friends have lamented how long we have to wait for a second season of "No One Wants This." (I'm sorry to tell you that the only date we know at the moment is "2025").
