Ranking Every TV Show of 2020: #s 109-85

We’re ranking every TV show we watched in 2020. If you missed the first two tiers, you can check them out here.

Tier 10: Tolerable, but forgettable
109. Monsterland (Hulu, Season 1). The idea behind Monsterland—a horror anthology whose disparate episodes are all designed to tap into similar feelings of resentment, isolation, and dread—is solid enough. It’s the execution that’s lacking. Most anthologies imitate a qualitative bell curve: one or two stunners, one or two clunkers, and a handful of passable installments in between. But with Monsterland, it’s hard to pick a highlight. I reasonably enjoyed both the opener—with Kaitlyn Dever (who also shows up in several other episodes) as a young single mom at the end of her rope—and the closer—with Mike Colter as a bereaved father whose floundering marriage suddenly receives some extraterrestrial Viagra. But most of what’s in between is a muddle, hinting at intriguing premises without exploring them with any urgency. A show called Monsterland shouldn’t be so unmemorable.

108. Marcella (Netflix, Season 3; 2018 rank: 84 of 93). Undercover-cop stories almost always hold my attention, and Anna Friel’s lead performance here remains entertaining for the way it straddles the line between committed and unhinged. Still, the series’ signature seediness is starting to feel a little dull. There are ghastly killing and secret identities and torrid affairs and devious double-crosses, and it all has the makings of superior pulp, but after awhile it’s just noise. Maybe next season, Marcella could just spend a quiet, reflective afternoon alone on the beach. That would be the ultimate twist.

107. Altered Carbon (Netflix, Season 2; 2018 rank: 43). Anthony Mackie is a better actor than Joel Kinnaman, so you’d think that Altered Carbon’s recasting of its lead—which is narratively plausible, given how characters constantly inhabit different bodies, or “sleeves”—would prove an upgrade. But despite Mackie’s reliable grit, he can’t salvage the series’ sloppy plotting or flat writing. This remains an impressively conceived show, and some of the minor players—in particular Chris Conner’s loyal but frustrated android—add flashes of welcome color. Yet for the most part, Altered Carbon’s second season descends into tedious glumness, and the glitzy production design can no longer salvage the incomprehensible story. Hard reboot, please.

106. Penny Dreadful: City of Angels (Showtime, Season 1). The original Penny Dreadful, which ran for three seasons on Showtime from 2014–16, is one of the most underrated series of the recent #PeakTV boom. This spin-off, which transplants the action from Gothic London to 1930s Los Angeles, is rather less good. It has its moments: Natalie Dormer gets to play multiple roles (most memorably as a remorseless demoness clad in jet-black leather), while Nathan Lane, of all people, invests the archetypal role of hard-bitten detective with genuine pathos. For the most part, though, City of Angels is felled by thin characters and shrill sermonizing. Its story of immigrant struggle is too facile to work as either drama or allegory, and its set pieces have no real snap. It also lacks the original’s crucial ingredient of Eva Green, a reminder that no matter how freely writers are able to reinvent things, some souls simply can’t be reincarnated.

105. Shrill (Hulu, Season 2; last year: 69 of 101). This show isn’t bad. Aidy Bryant is good, and there’s a sweetness to its depiction of female friendship that’s admirable and unforced. At the same time, it isn’t nearly funny enough to work as a comedy, and its dramatic material—particularly the stuff featuring John Cameron as an obnoxiously entitled boss—is often tiresome. I appreciate the series’ small scope and gentle tone, but it might benefit from a bit more weight.

104. Narcos: Mexico (Netflix, Season 2; 2018 rank: 75). Look, when Scoot McNairy joins your show and it still isn’t interesting, it’s probably time to quit. There are some brisk chase scenes, and that one episode about a manipulated election is a chiller. (Please do not tell Breitbart about it.) But Narcos has grown increasingly tepid over time, to the point where its characters just feel lumped together, lacking in color or definition. Everything is a pale echo, a whisper of the series’ more robust seasons. I’m so old, I can remember when this show got me high.

103. Briarpatch (USA, Season 1). Why wasn’t this show good? It’s a pulpy noir starring Rosario Dawson as a political operative investigating her estranged sister’s murder; when she first appears, she’s wearing an ice-cream-white suit that attracts the light of the gleaming Texas sun. There are secret warehouses, wild tigers, sadomasochistic sex, and Alan Cumming. All of that sounds awesome. And yet, Briarpatch is a weird slog, awkwardly attempting to balance its genre material with a more abstract topicality. (This wasn’t the only immigration-themed series of 2020, but it may have been the most lead-footed.) The relationships clatter rather than simmer, and the mystery is too byzantine to be suspenseful—except, of course, for the puzzle of how such an intriguing show became such a chore to watch.

102. Dark (Netflix, Season 3: 2017 rank: 74 of 108). Speaking of byzantine. Dark is a laudably serious show, and in its second season (which I didn’t watch in time to include in my 2019 rankings), it occasionally transcended its mumbo-jumbo plotting and became a stirring study of desperation and perseverance. For its final batch of episodes—because constantly adding new timelines just wasn’t enough, apparently—it creates a whole parallel world that also has multiple timelines. I’m sure there’s a giant conspiracy board out there with intertwined strands of colored yarn piecing all of the characters and universes together, but I never stood a chance of figuring it out. The real test is whether, despite the baffling storylines, the series is compelling in terms of character or style. And the answer in Season 3 is, well, not really. There are spiffy sound effects and neat hairstyles and ominous needle drops—each episode concludes with a creepy montage that’s designed to establish the characters’ whereabouts and heighten the stakes (unless that was last season, I honestly can’t remember)—but ultimately, Dark is just exhausting. If you have a stronger stomach for unraveling multitudinous story threads, then perhaps you’ll be enchanted. For my part, the end of this show’s world(s) came as a reprieve.

101. The Politician (Netflix, Season 2: last year: 65). May I present the least bad Ryan Murphy show of the year! There’s something sweetly pathetic about The Politician, which attempts to operate as a cutting satire of American governance yet never comes close to leaving a mark on your skin. I’m not sure this is a bad thing; real-world politics in 2020 were so consequential, watching a fraudulent imitation of them about an upstart college dropout seeking to become a New York State Senator felt like a respite. This isn’t to say The Politician is good, because it isn’t; it’s silly, tawdry, and shallow. (Just like a political candidate, zing!) But it’s reasonably entertaining, especially when it stops obsessing over its characters’ sex lives and just lets them talk. There’s no true nourishment here, but the surface execution has its tasty appeal, and the zany plotting keeps you effectively off-balance without taking itself seriously. Look, an entire episode is devoted to strategizing for a runoff that’s decided by a game of rock-paper-scissors. Ask yourself: Is that infantile, or does this hectic, inane, not entirely charmless series not go low enough?

100. I Hate Suzie (HBO, Season 1). Sigh. This is one of those acclaimed series that I appreciate but simply do not enjoy. It stars Billie Piper (from Penny Dreadful!) as a C-list celebrity whose life is upended when evidence of her infidelity hits the tabloids. It’s insightful and detailed, addressing topics ranging from fame to misogyny to workplace harassment to disability to motherhood. It explores all of those issues with empathy and sobriety. And yet… it’s kind of miserable. I don’t mean that its characters are depressed (though they are); I mean that it’s unpleasant to watch—not in a way that shakes you up, but just in a way that makes you wish it were over. I don’t hate I Hate Suzie. I just don’t really like it.

99. Cursed (Netflix, Season 1). At the risk of engaging in post hoc ergo propter hoc: The sudden nosedive in quality that 13 Reasons Why experienced between Seasons 2 and 3 coincided with the departure of Katherine Langford, the series’ quiet, brittle soul. Langford quite sensibly parlayed her success into her own Netflix series (along with a part in Knives Out), and her lead performance in Cursed is sturdy, if not as magnetic as her breakout role. The series itself is basically a teen-lit take on Arthurian lore, with Langford as the sorceress Nimue. (One of the 12 different Skarsgård brothers plays Merlin; Peter Mullan also shows up, and you’ll never believe it, but he’s a villain.) It’s a pleasant enough show, with some gorgeous images and impressive production design. But it’s caught on the border—not rich enough to work as serious drama, and not playful enough to thrive as high-wire fantasy. It feels like an imitation, which places it beneath its star, who isn’t copying anyone.

98. Rick and Morty (Adult Swim, Season 4.5; last year: 76). Welp. Having just enraged television’s critics by dismissing I Hate Suzie, I will now proceed to incense its most frenzied fans. My attitude toward Rick and Morty remains mostly unchanged: It’s a very clever show that’s too proud of its own cleverness, and keeping up with its relentless barrage of imaginative jokes and circular references is more tiring than entertaining. Of the five episodes that aired in 2020, only one—an episode about a vat of acid, which is of course called “The Vat of Acid Episode”—transcends its own premise, delivering a deliciously witty half-hour full of ingenuity, humor, and heart. (Bonus points for the line, “You prestiged yourself!”) The rest… I dunno. Sometimes it’s funny, and sometimes it’s brilliant, but most of the time, Rick and Morty keeps me at a considerable distance. If you don’t adore this show, it insists, then it’s just because you aren’t smart enough. Maybe so. But it’s helpful to remember that the series’ hero is a misanthropic asshole. Perhaps struggling to connect with it isn’t the worst thing.

97. Deutschland 86 (Hulu, Season 3; 2018 rank: 51). In theory, the Deutschland series—which began as a playful European variation on The Americans (as Deutschland 83), then turned into a more sprawling espionage adventure (as Deutschland 86)—was building to the fall of the Berlin Wall the whole time. So it’s odd that the first few episodes of Deutschland 89 are so flat, bouncing lethargically across various subplots. Thankfully, things pick up in the season’s second half, with some fraught tête-à-têtes and a few juicy set pieces. Still, Season 3 is the series’ weakest, neither digging into its characters’ tortured psyches nor delivering the genre thrills that it once promised. I’m grateful to this show for its past pleasures, but it’s probably time for it to surrender.

Tier 9: Still not good, but getting interesting
96. Utopia (Amazon, Season 1). Created by Gillian Flynn, Utopia is a conspiratorial series about a pandemic that’s manufactured by a cabal of elitist scientists with a sinister agenda. So, yeah, its timing wasn’t great. It’s also a ridiculous show, featuring maladjusted assassins, sacrificial sins, and a prized comic book that holds the key to humanity’s future. It isn’t remotely persuasive on the level of either plot or character. And yet, there’s something perversely watchable about Utopia—its sudden deaths, its absurd twists, its deranged mythology. In empirical terms, this is a lousy series. But for sheer bingeability, it’s oddly infectious.

95. The Undoing (HBO, Season 1). Can a bad ending ruin an entire show? Typically I’m inclined to think otherwise, but what if the entire show is constructed to build to its ending? In its first few episodes, this mystery series (from the creative team behind Big Little Lies) exhibits considerable promise, posturing itself not just as a whodunit but as a keen study of privilege; it hints at how a cloistered society can close ranks, and how whispers at ice-cream socials can carry powerful aftershocks. Regrettably, The Undoing eventually succumbs to the traps that wreck most potboilers, piling up red herrings and potential suspects while losing focus on the little details that are really interesting. Squandering the talents of Nicole Kidman, Hugh Grant, and Donald Sutherland is almost impressive, but the series’ final episodes are legitimately depressing, given that they retroactively reveal its beginning as a waste of time. Who (un)did it? The answer might surprise you, but the concluding feeling of disappointment is all too familiar.

94. Frayed (HBO, Season 1). Frayed is a series about a pampered London housewife whose crooked husband suddenly dies and leaves her and her two teenage children essentially destitute, forcing them to return to her native Australia. It’s a comedy. And a marginally funny one, too; the relationship between the lead (Sarah Kendall, who also wrote the show) and her layabout brother is playfully antagonistic, and the script efficiently captures the discomfort of returning to your small-town roots. Still, that smallness creates something of a dampening effect. There isn’t really much wrong with Frayed, but there isn’t much exciting about it either. There are some witty lines and spiky characters and sensitive developments, but nothing carries any force. That lack of impact makes it a pleasant show, as well as a forgettable one.

93. Hunters (Amazon, Season 1). There’s a lot to like here: an ambitious premise; some directorial snap; at least a passing attempt to contemplate issues of vengeance and morality. There are also plenty of problems; Logan Lerman is poorly cast as the lead, and while it’s always nice to see Al Pacino chew some scenery, the series hardly makes the best use of his gifts. Hunters also wraps up with a twist that, to put it mildly, is hard to swallow. (Whether it largely invalidates what preceded it, as The Undoing did, depends on how much time you spend thinking about it; my advice is that it’s best to ignore it.) It’s a passably entertaining show that nevertheless fails to capitalize on some juicy ideas. Perhaps a second season—teased by a reveal that’s even more outrageous than the finale’s initial rug-pull—will smooth out the kinks, but for now, this interesting, ungainly series is still searching.

92. Killing Eve (BBC America; Season 3; last year: 18 of 101). Uh oh. I was a staunch defender of the second season of Killing Eve, which obviously didn’t need to exist (as though certain series do need to exist) but which still pulsed with anarchic vigor. Season 3, unfortunately, suffers a dramatic decline. Separating its two leads (who are both still good) drains the show of its signature electricity, and tonally, it’s just all over the place. There are still flashes of flavor—some neat outfits, some startling violence—but the series’ overall joie de vivre seems to have been assassinated.

91. Better Things (FX, Season 4; last year: 80). I don’t have much new to say. Better Things has been a critical smash since its inception, and each season has left me unmoved. Intellectually, I admire its oddness and its shape-shifting formlessness. But while it plainly possesses its own identity, that identity strikes me as slack and tedious, not to mention smug (he said, while adoring Aaron Sorkin). It’s very human and sincere and gentle and strange, but most of all, it’s dull.

90. In My Skin (Hulu, Season 1). Running a wispy five half-hour episodes, this British series doesn’t have a ton of substance. But it’s a sweetly observed little character study, watching empathetically as a teenage girl wrestles with her sexuality while also dealing with a challenging home life. It isn’t an especially memorable show, but in its swift depictions of various relationships—friends, parents, crushes—it evinces a welcome tenderness, along with a keen eye for detail. As the title suggests, there’s an inhabitating quality to the show, even if the world it occupies can feel awfully lonely.

89. Kidding (Showtime, Season 2; 2018 rank: 56 of 93). The variance on Kidding is high. There are delightfully whimsical episodes that seize on the series’ bizarre premise. (There’s also a spectacular cameo from, of all people, Blake Griffin.) And then there are extended stretches that just die. (I’d describe the alternative nursing-home subplot, but you wouldn’t believe me.) Its sheer weirdness is laudable, but it’s also exhausting and at times obnoxious. It’s probably a good thing that it got cancelled, because I can’t fathom where it would have gone next. But I’m also strangely disappointed, because part of me wanted to see just how zany and surreal it might have grown.

88. Central Park (Apple, Season 1). Here’s another show that I appreciate far more than I enjoy. Central Park is an animated musical with a diverse cast (you may have heard about some, er, issues vis-à-vis Kristen Bell) and a laudably progressive bent. But it also features a subplot where Stanley Tucci keeps trying to emotionally connect with his dog, and honestly, there’s not much I can do with that. Central Park is perky and wholesome and decidedly pleasant. But its aggressiveness silliness can be too much for a curmudgeon like me to bear.

87. Snowpiercer (TNT, Season 1). Bong Joon-ho’s Snowpiercer is a terrific movie, brilliantly combining thoughtful allegory with meat-and-potatoes action. The first season of Snowpiercer, based on both Bong’s film and the original graphic novel, is rather less excellent. But it still has its appeal, reinventing itself as a case-of-the-week procedural while also nudging forward a serialized plot about a mobilized powder keg. It’s nice to see Jennifer Connelly have something to do again, and the series’ mythology is reasonably inventive without ever becoming too absurd. What’s strange about it is that it mostly wastes Daveed Diggs; he’s the show’s nominal lead, but he’s saddled with playing the Troubled Hero, which means he’s tiresome while the supporting players get to have all of the fun. We’ll see if the series course corrects for its second trip around the world (airing now); in the meantime, this first season at least provides some colorful entertainment, even if its cinematic predecessor makes it feel like a toy engine by comparison.

86. One Day at a Time (Pop TV/CBS, Season 4; last year: 66). Rescued by Pop TV (and then re-broadcast on CBS) after its much-derided cancellation at Netflix, One Day at a Time remains a mixed bag in its fourth (and presumably final) season. The jokes are mostly stale, but the characters are still strong; the plotting is forced, but the themes are resonant. What else is new? Not this sitcom, which intentionally recalls not just its Norman Lear predecessor but an entire television era of live audiences, and multiple cameras, and laugh tracks. But of course, the series is sort of new in that the cast is largely Latinx, and virtually every episode could be deemed Very Special. That makes the show worthwhile on a broad scale, even if its scene-to-scene particulars often feel familiar and flat.

85. I Am Not Okay With This (Netflix, Season 1). There’s a lot of promise in this series, which stars Sophia Lillis (Sharp Objects, It) as a teenager struggling to control her emerging superpowers. The problem is that, as a season of television, it’s too slight to develop any momentum; at seven episodes running around 23 minutes each, it feels like it’s barely getting off the ground when it ends. (A planned second season was scuttled in light of COVID-19, which, sigh.) Lillis is always good, and there’s rich metaphorical terrain to cover in the concept of a young woman hiding her burgeoning nature from the world. But despite some ominous imagery and savvy editing, I Am Not Okay With This never properly coalesces into anything truly meaningful or suspenseful. Keeping things close to the vest is a reasonable storytelling technique but eventually, the monster needs to come out and play.

Coming tomorrow: Netflix gets sexy, HBO gets scary, and some boys get ugly.