The 10 best TV shows of 2024 (and 5 worst)

Peak TV is dead, and that's just fine. Even though the volume of production is dropping fast, there's still way more TV than one dedicated fan could possibly get through every year. Entertainment Weekly's list of the year's best shows — featuring a few big hits and several low-profile gems — can help close that dreaded Viewing Gap™, and it's got plenty of binge fodder for your upcoming holiday break.

The 10 best shows of 2024

10. Matlock (CBS)

You can never go wrong with old people solving mysteries. But this clever reinvention of the classic Andy Griffith series is more than comfort TV — it’s a procedural with a soul. Developed by showrunner Jennie Snyder Urman (Jane the Virgin), Matlock stars Kathy Bates as Madeline Kingston, a retired lawyer who goes undercover at the New York City law firm she believes had a hand in her daughter’s death from an opioid overdose. Bates, in full Southern grandma mode, is unsurprisingly delightful, and her comedic chemistry with co-star Skye P. Marshall (as Madeline’s boss, Olympia) gets better with each passing episode. Blending satisfying “justice for the little guy” cases and relatable human drama — like fraught family dynamics, the myth of work-life balance, and the unpredictability of grief — Matlock is both soothing and edifying. Plus, any series that gives us a weekly dose of Jason Ritter (as Olympia’s colleague/ex-husband, Julian) deserves to be celebrated.

9. Criminal Record (Apple TV+)

A wonderfully unfussy detective yarn, Criminal Record follows two London cops — June Lenker (Cush Jumbo), a relative newcomer to the force, and Daniel Hegarty (Peter Capaldi), a respected veteran and part of the department’s old-white-guy wall of silence — as they clash over the 2012 conviction of a Black man (Tom Moutchi) for his girlfriend’s murder. Created by Paul Rutman (Indian Summers), Criminal Record eschews narrative gimmicks in favor of a straightforward — and superbly nuanced — story about generational conflict, the intractability of institutional racism and sexism, and the quiet satisfaction of tenacious police work. That, and the absolute brilliance of Capaldi and Jumbo as well-matched foils, is all the razzle-dazzle this drama needs.

Read the full review of Criminal Record.

8. Fantasmas (HBO)

“I wake up and I just sort of Julio.” Indeed, that’s just what Julio Torres —comedian, visionary, and creator/star of Fantasmas — does throughout this five-part fantasy set in a cartoonishly dystopian New York. Desperate to avoid the prison of conformity, be it an “unremarkable black puffer coat” or the government-issued “Proof of Existence” card, Julio searches for an all-important oyster earring. Meanwhile, Fantasmas veers into lavishly absurd vignettes, featuring some of the most surprising guest-star turns of the year. (Steve Buscemi as the letter Q! Pose’s Dominque Jackson as the Algorithm! Emma Stone as a Real Housewives-esque reality star!) In the end, Julio learns that the power to be exceptional (and exceptionally weird) was inside him all along.

7. Mr. & Mrs. Smith (Prime Video)

Another stellar entry in the recent wave of nostalgic procedural mysteries (see: Peacock’s Poker Face, CBS’ Elsbeth and Matlock). This TV-series spin on the 2005 Brad and Angie blockbuster pairs globe-trotting, big-budget spy adventures with a sharp and comedic portrait of a marriage in nearly constant crisis. Bolstered by the undeniable chemistry of leads Donald Glover and Maya Erskine and packed with Emmy-nominated/winning guest stars, Mr. & Mrs. Smith is one of the few exceptions to the “most reboots are unnecessary” rule. Though it’s still unclear if Glover and Erskine will return for season 2, I trust showrunner Francesca Sloane — who co-created the series with Glover — will crack her next mission, even if it morphs into an anthology.

Read the full review of Mr. & Mrs. Smith.

6. La Máquina (Hulu)

In today’s television landscape, original ideas are increasingly rare, and in the case of La Máquina, worth cherishing. The darkly comic boxing drama from Marco Ramirez stars Gael García Bernal as Esteban “La Máquina” Osuna, a 38-year-old boxing champ at the end of his career. When Esteban’s flashy, fast-talking manager, Andy (Diego Luna, rendered nearly recognizable by prosthetics), convinces him to fight one last match, he unintentionally puts their lives — and their decades of friendship — in danger. Over the course of six electric episodes, we watch as Esteban’s childhood trauma and boxing-induced brain damage converge to defeat him, while Andy is forced to confront his part in the champ’s potential downfall. Lifelong pals Bernal and Luna are extraordinary and effortlessly funny as this dysfunctional duo, whose humor can’t quite mask their humiliation and heartbreak.

5. The Vince Staples Show (Netflix)

I went in expecting a Curb-style meta-spoof about Vince Staples’ life as a well-known rapper and actor. Instead, this five-episode reverie offers a grimly funny exploration of the 31-year-old’s attempt to exist outside of the spotlight in Long Beach, Calif. Navigating challenges from the banal (a condescending bank manager; cops who confuse him for another Black man) to the surreal (amusement park mascots hellbent on vengeance), Staples presents himself as a guy whose biggest goal in life isn’t fame — it’s uneventful anonymity. Featuring an exceptional performance from Vanessa Bell Calloway (as Vince’s hilariously ill-tempered mom, Anita) and a shockingly bleak cliffhanger, The Vince Staples Show was almost the most underappreciated comedy of the year — until Netflix renewed it for season 2.

Read the full review of The Vince Staples Show.

4. Fallout (Prime Video)

There’s nothing like a nuclear apocalypse to shatter a person’s faith in humanity. But 200 years after the end of the world, rule-following patriot Lucy MacLean (Ella Purnell) works to be a model citizen in her subterranean survival vault so she can one day emerge and help rebuild the nuke-shattered society. Aboveground, though, it’s every man, mutated mega-salamander, and irradiated zombie humanoid (Walton Goggins) for himself. A multifaceted apocalypse adventure that interrogates the concept of self-governance through the lens of morality, nihilism, and “the great game of capitalism,” Fallout believes that not even an A-bomb can eradicate our nation’s determination to survive.

Read the full review of Fallout.

3. Hacks (Max)

In its seamless third season, Hacks finds an authentic way to bring wealthy, razor-witted comedian Deborah Vance (Jean Smart) and her rising-star writer, Ava Daniels (Hannah Einbinder) back together, evolving their relationship from one of cross-generational mentorship to true — but turbulent – friendship. Even with two scene-stealing stars to service, Hacks managed to mine new comedic gold with the essential ensemble, including Kaitlin Olson (three words: “What a c---!”) and the show's other great power couple, agent Jimmy (Paul W. Downs) and his flighty-like-a-fox assistant, Kayla (Megan Stalter). Attention must be paid to this season’s remarkable guest casting, too, which was unpredictable yet perfectly on point. (“My mom’s Deidre Hall from Days of Our Lives,” notes Jimmy, casually uttering one of the biggest TV reveals of the year.) Yes, these Emmy-winning Hacks are at the top of the comedy game.

2. Shōgun (FX)

In an era of second-screen viewing, Shōgun is the rare show that requires — and earns — our full attention. This opulently produced, sprawling adaptation of James Clavell’s bestselling novel made a knotty power struggle between feudal Japanese leaders into a riveting — and sometimes laugh-out-loud funny — historical soap opera. Anchored by the romance between Mariko (Anna Sawai), loyal interpreter for Lord Toranaga (Hiroyuki Sanada), and captive British sailor John Blackthorne (Cosmo Jarvis), Shōgun took home a stunning 18 Emmy Awards and earned a second and third season from FX. Forty-four years ago, NBC told Clavell’s story through the perspective of his white hero. This Shōgun brought the author's enduring tale into the modern age by giving Toranaga and Mariko their rightful place in the spotlight. The result was an epic, moving testament to the transcendent power of honor and fidelity.

Read the full review of Shōgun.

1. Pachinko (Apple TV+)

The most moving thing I’ve seen on TV this year was Pachinko’s Sunja (Minha Kim), Kyunghee (Eunchae Jung), and Yangjin (Inji Jeong) packing a suitcase. It’s 1950, and Sunja’s brilliant son Noa (Tae Ju Kang) is leaving Osaka for Waseda University in Tokyo. Kneeling on the floor of their humble home, the women iron and fold the boy’s clothing, gently smoothing and arranging the garments in a kind of sacred silence. It’s a moment of intense pride and bittersweet loss for Sunja, who has endured a lifetime of suffering — exile, war, poverty, widowhood — in her thirty-something years on earth. Placing a shirt in her son’s suitcase, Sunja presses her hands onto the crisp white cloth for an extra few seconds, before wiping away an errant tear and getting back to work. Not a moment is wasted in Pachinko’s impeccable second season, which continues its multigenerational saga about the burden, blessing, and legacy of family sacrifice. Adapted by Soo Hugh from Min Jin Lee’s 2017 epic, Pachinko is a breathtaking, beautiful example of television’s true potential. (If only Apple would treat it as such by ordering a third season.)

Read the full review of Pachinko.

Honorable mentions

Squid Game season 2 (Netflix, December 26)

Spoiler constraints prohibit me from saying much at all, but just know that with his seven-episode sophomore season, creator Hwang Dong-hyuk puts grim-faced Gi-Hung (Lee Jung-jae) through the candy-colored wringer again. Expect chilling new games, standout new characters (my personal favorite: Choi Seung-hyun as a purple-haired rapper who calls himself “Thanos”), and a chaotic climax that will make the wait for Squid Game's third and final season even harder.

Evil (Paramount+)

Evil began as a smart but somewhat routine science-vs.-religion procedural, following a trio of supernatural assessors — forensic psychologist Dr. Kristen Bouchard (Katja Herbers), Father David Acosta (Mike Colter), and atheist/tech whiz Ben Shakir (Aasif Mandvi) — working for the Catholic church. Four increasingly weird seasons and one liberating network change later, Robert and Michelle King’s drama ended as an otherworldly wonder that interpreted the dread of modern living through pitch-black humor, empathy, and an unfaltering undercurrent of hope. The final season found snide and sinister psychologist/devil-worshipper Leland Townsend (Michael Emerson) struggling to be a single father to a cute baby boy named Timothy — a.k.a. the “living Antichrist” — while Kristen wrestled with the urgent desire to tune out of our grim reality. “More and more,” she laments, “everything seems threatening.” Thank all the gods for Evil, which reassured us that there’s nothing more human than being afraid.

The Traitors (Peacock)

In season 2, this “murder”-mystery competition ditched the dead weight of real-people contestants, stacking a grand Scottish castle with reality TV luminaries, fame-adjacent public figures, even a former U.K. politician — and may the best manipulator win. Lording over the deliciously melodramatic proceedings is Alan Cumming, whose theatrical commitment to the bit helped him put an end to RuPaul's eight-year winning streak at the Emmys.

Black Doves (Netflix)

The best spy-assassin buddy comedy since Killing Eve season 1. Keira Knightley stars as Helen, a UK politician’s wife who’s spent the last decade selling government secrets to the highest bidder on behalf of the titular spy organization. Ben Whishaw is Sam, Helen’s old friend — and a crack assassin — who’s brought in to help Helen find the people who killed her lover (Andrew Koji). Created by Joe Barton, this London-set lark is action-packed, frequently hilarious (“You’re doin’ my head in, literally a couple of assassins trying to find the moral high ground”), and already renewed for season 2. Give it a shot.

Read the full review of Black Doves.

The Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show (HBO)

“Cameras make me feel more comfortable. It feels permanent and it seems dumb to lie. I keep saying I want to live more truthfully.” With that as his mission statement, comedian Jerrod Carmichael delivered the realest celebrity reality show since… maybe ever? Eschewing the impulse to curate his life for the cameras, Carmichael instead showed us everything: Cheating on his boyfriend with a series of grindr hookups; letting down a close friend on his wedding day; confronting his dad, Joe, over his infidelity and his mom, Cynthia, for her Bible-based rejection of his homosexuality. Painful and cringe-inducing as it could be, the Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show found its power and purpose in radical, almost revolutionary, transparency.

Read the full review of Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show.

The worst shows of 2024

Cruel Intentions (Prime Video)

There is no nice way to say this: Nearly every actor in this show — a flaccid reboot of the 1999 film — is woefully, comically miscast. You know the story: Oversexed step-siblings Caroline (Sarah Catherine Hook) and Lucien (Zac Burgess) attempt to use a morally unquestionable maiden (Savannah Lee Smith) in their plot for power over their peers at a snooty college in Washington D.C. Cruel Intentions only succeeds if the enfants terribles at its center simmer like cauldrons of sex appeal and charisma. Instead, we get a black hole of bland. To be fair, even Olivier himself would have trouble breathing life into some of this dialogue. (“Well, if it isn’t the Three Muskequeers.”) I’m beginning to think this IP is cursed; NBC couldn’t even make a sequel series with Sarah Michelle Gellar work. Cruel's lackluster lot was destined to flunk out. —K.B.

The women of Landman (Paramount+)

In the season premiere of Taylor Sheridan’s Landman, Tommy Norris — a Texas-based fixer for an oil company — attends a football game with his teenage daughter, Ainsley (Michelle Randolph). Worried that his baby girl might become a baby mama thanks to her strapping football-star boyfriend (Drake Rodger), Tommy (Billy Bob Thornton) asks Ainsley if she and her beau are being careful. Smiling up at her daddy, Ainsley promises him that they follow one strict rule: “As long as he never comes in me, he can come anywhere on me.” Ladies and gentleman, I give you the women of Landman, as drawn by Sheridan himself. These gals come in all the colors of the female-stereotype rainbow: Bubbly and blond (Ainsley); bitchy and brittle (Kayla Wallace’s Rebecca Falcone, a lawyer who tells Tommy she prefers her vibrator to men); booze-soaked and brokenhearted (Tommy’s ex Angela, played by Ali Larter, who deserves so much better). Of course, there’s also Demi Moore, who so far has shockingly little to do as Cami Miller, beautiful wife of oil company CEO Monty (Jon Hamm). Fun fact: Sheridan, who serves as the sole writer on most of his series, has more dialogue in the season 2 premiere of his Paramount+ drama Lioness (he plays CIA officer Cody Spears) than Moore does in the first five episodes of Landman. Bro, who hurt you? —K.B.

Ted (Peacock)

Did I love the 2012 movie about a kid’s foul-mouthed teddy bear come to life, voiced by Seth MacFarlane and starring Mark Wahlberg as the adult version of his BFF? Absolutely. The R-rated buddy-comedy wasn’t reinventing the wheel by any means, but it was hilarious, so who cared? The 2015 sequel failed to capture the raunchy magic of the original, so why did anyone think making a prequel TV series a decade later was a good idea? The entire premise of the first film worked because it was about a kid who made a wish that brought his teddy bear to life, and then they both grew up — but never matured. We didn’t need to see what happened before that. And yet, we still had to endure this '90s-set Peacock “comedy” featuring MacFarlane as the voice of Ted and starring Parenthood alum Max Burkholder as his teenage best friend. The inconsistent plot was so thin it barely existed, and the writing was downright abysmal, with jokes about dated stereotypes going more for shock value than actual laughs. Peacock should have left this story in the past where it belongs. — Sydney Bucksbaum

Orphan Black: Echoes (AMC)

Orphan Black: Echoes flatlined the moment Krysten Ritter attempted to speak Spanish in the first episode. The actress was perfect to lead Jessica Jones because the apathy, smart aleck comebacks, and hardened demeanor of that Marvel character were right in her emotional wheelhouse. But Ritter was just not suited to lead a series of this magnitude, especially one Orphan Black fans had been craving in the years since the original sci-fi drama went off the air. When you have someone like Tatiana Maslany in multiple killer roles as your gold standard, the lifeless turn Ritter delivered here never stood a chance. We should’ve taken the fact that the spinoff’s entire season dropped in Australia before a U.S. bow as a warning sign. — Nick Romano

Beauty in Black (Netflix)

File under “there’s no accounting for taste:” Audiences kept this mess on Netflix’s top 10 TV list for a month. The soap (Tyler Perry’s first series for the streamer) centers on Kimmie (Taylor Polidore Williams), a sex worker trying to build a career in cosmetology, and Mallory (Crystle Stewart), a beauty-brand mogul who secretly manages the racket Kimmie is tied to. There's a clear connection between these central characters, but Beauty in Black muddles its story with painfully one-dimensional characters, predictable plot twists, and hilariously awful dialogue. ("She wouldn’t know what a million dollars was if it fell out of the crack vial that I know she’s using.”) Skip this schlock and try Riches (Prime Video) or P-Valley (Starz) instead. — Alamin Yohannes

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