Nearly there now. Throughout the week, we’ve been counting down every TV show we watched in 2025. Today we unveil the honorable mentions which, depending on your perspective, either all should have been in the top 10 or are all ranked 50 spots too high. If you missed prior installments, check out the following links:
#s 97-86
#s 85-71
#s 70-56
#s 55-41
#s 40-31
#s 30-21
20. Black Rabbit (Netflix, Season 1). In the abstract, the mere existence of Black Rabbit feels flawed: great, another overextended miniseries about two whiny white dudes, starring actors who should be headlining movies instead. But sometimes, the Netflix slot machine pays out, because this series about a family-owned restaurant is a barn-burner. It’s become clichéd to compare new works of art to Uncut Gems, but Black Rabbit evokes that kind of sweaty intensity, yanking you down with its characters as their lives spiral helplessly out of control. Jude Law is ideally cast as the hero—fast-talking and quick-witted, but afflicted with helpless ambition and a tragic dose of fraternal loyalty—while Jason Bateman gives possibly the best performance of his career as an impulsive older brother whose indomitable pride compels him to make one disastrous decision after the next. The binge model has rarely been better served: This show keeps feeding you heaps of sharply flavored anxiety, and the only way out is to keep ordering more.
19. English Teacher (FX, Season 2; last year: 9 of 88). You will forgive me if I ignore the elephant in the classroom (sexual assault allegations against showrunner Brian Jordan Alvarez) and instead focus on the surrounding students. They’re the ones who really run the school, and while English Teacher continues to exhibit playful exasperation regarding Zoomer dialect and social rituals, it also recognizes that the instructors are no more mature. The series doesn’t significantly evolve in its second season, but that’s appropriate for a show about the thankless drudgery of scholastic education. Besides, the consistency is a positive, given that English Teacher keeps cranking out funny jokes, clever setups, and absurdist scenarios. It understands the assignment—keep doing good work, but don’t try so hard that you get stuffed in a locker.
18. The Diplomat (Netflix, Season 3; last year: 3). Speaking of consistent. In terms of narrative, The Diplomat is impressively inventive, constantly fabricating new crises for Keri Russell to navigate. But the plot of this show is really incidental to its true strengths: the rhythmic dialogue, the pressurized atmosphere, the perspicacious actors. (To further ignite its talented inferno, this season brings in Bradley Whitford as Allison Janney’s husband.) The longer the series runs, the more it risks losing steam, but for the time being it still hums with vitality, and in certain moments—most notably a sojourn at an island hideaway—its intimate verisimilitude coalesces perfectly with its labyrinthine intrigue, at which point it acquires exhilarating force. What a fantasy, when political problems can be entertaining instead of nauseating.
17. The White Lotus (HBO, Season 3; 2022 rank: 9 of 110). I’ve already written at length about the finale, which is a severe stumble. But until then—and in parts, even then—The White Lotus remains excellent, a biting class critique whose social commentary doesn’t dilute its comic and dramatic pleasures. With one exception (those damn Ratliffs), Mike White nimbly creates various character groupings and imbues them all with exquisite detail while still maintaining a brisk, tense pace. You’d think the constant deaths would eventually hamper the titular hotel’s business, but with writing and acting as sharp as this, it’s small wonder people keep coming back.
16. The Studio (Apple, Season 1). The central irony of The Studio is that it takes as its theme the majesty of cinema and the sanctity of the theatrical experience… yet it’s a 10-episode TV series that streams on Apple. If you can get past that—and the show makes it difficult on occasion—then you can indulge in a production that’s cleverly conceived, confidently made, and indecently steeped in pop-culture esoterica. Maybe it feels like watching reference porn, spotting all of the cameos and chuckling at all of the allusions, but I can’t help it if The Studio seems like it was made for me—a helpless sicko who devotes far too much of his life to following the arts. But the series isn’t just about lore; it’s also a thoughtfully constructed TV show, with individualized episodes that stand comfortably on their own while also contributing to the broader thematic whole. At one point, Seth Rogen’s self-obsessed honcho demands that intellectuals at a dinner party acknowledge that movies are important to society. With its lacerating wit and encyclopedic knowhow, The Studio does an alarmingly convincing job of making the same case for television.
15. Smoke (Apple, Season 1). Surprised? I always hesitate to use the word “underrated,” because it implies the existence of an agreed-upon consensus that never really exists, but it’s more efficient than “better than the widespread opinion I’ve anecdotally perceived in my brain.” Anyway, Smoke is underrated. Created by crime-fiction laureate Dennis Lehane, it stars Taron Egerton as a hotshot arson investigator and Jurnee Smollett as the cop who partners up with him. That’s a solid enough setup, but while the show initially presents as a straightforward police procedural, it quickly pivots into something far thornier and more interesting. You’d think masculinity has been sufficiently interrogated by now in media, but Egerton’s electric, deceptively astute performance uncovers new shades of darkness and entitlement. The story, meanwhile, is shrewdly paced and expertly balanced… at least until the finale, which abandons well-calibrated suspense in favor of pure insanity. It’s a mild bummer that’s also oddly fitting. No fire this bright could burn forever.
14. The Pitt (HBO Max, Season 1). Can a show be great and also a little overrated? Some of the praise I’ve seen for The Pitt, a medical drama that unfolds over a single 15-hour shift in a Pennsylvania emergency room, seems hyperbolic, crediting it for rediscovering the glories of procedural television. Cool, so it’s a TV show, I get it. And yet, I kinda do get it, because as a work of technical and dramatic precision, The Pitt fires on all cylinders. The real-time conceit might seem artificial, but the series evades any potential hokeyness, instead constantly building tension while still making room for pockets of humor and warmth. The medical stuff is detailed and credible and gross—fellow ommetaphobes, be prepared to cover your eyes—but the key to the show is how fully it develops its (many) characters without diminishing its relentless energy. They say doctors are miracle workers, but they’ve got nothing on TV showrunners.
13. The Lowdown (FX, Season 1). Sterlin Harjo’s follow-up to Reservation Dogs, The Lowdown is conceived to be a complex neo-noir, an intimate character study, and a shaggy hangout comedy all at once. This means that for the series to work properly, it needs to be simultaneously smart, dignified, and amiable. In other words, it needs Ethan Hawke. The actor has a warm, inviting presence that can also conceal rugged determination and bone-deep integrity. The storyline of The Lowdown is convoluted, but Hawke’s enchanting performance obliterates any prosaic concerns about following the plot. He just shows you a good time, even as he brings heft to the series’ themes about colonialism, capitalism, and parenting. (Hawke can play beautifully off of anyone, but aside from a single episode featuring Peter Dinklage, his best scene partner here is Skeleton Crew’s Ryan Kiera Armstrong, who portrays his precocious daughter.) He reminds you that while America may be a hive of corruption and criminality, it can also be a beautiful place to read a book or grab a beer.
12. Black Mirror (Netflix, Season 7; 2023 rank: 25 of 94). Unexpected! It’s somewhat foolish to evaluate an anthology series like Black Mirror in terms of seasons, given that the episodes operate independently from one another. But in pure quantitative terms, 67% of this latest batch of dystopian mini-thrillers is truly fantastic. It’s easy enough to isolate them, Friends-style: the one where Rashida Jones and Chris O’Dowd get strung along into internet-subscriber hell; the one where Paul Giamatti reconnects with holograms of his long-lost love; the one where Issa Rae wanders into a Casablanca-like classic and romances Emma Corrin (my personal favorite); the one that sequelizes the famously warped Star Trek homage. But as AI strengthens its pernicious grasp on modern society and industry, these installments collectively speak to our technological fears with even greater urgency. The goal of Black Mirror is to be both chilling and soothing—to horrify us with potential nightmares while also assuring us that they’re the product of an artist’s feverish imagination. The show has lost none of its ingenuity, but it’s also feeling increasingly less fanciful. Now that’s scary.
11. Alien: Earth (FX, Season 1). I’m not an Alien-head. I like the first two movies pretty well, I think Ridley Scott’s more recent follow-ups are kinda cool and also forgettable, and I met Romulus with a shrug. (On the other hand, Romulus inspired me to finally watch 1997’s Resurrection, and turns out, good movie!) This combination of awareness and agnosticism might make me the ideal viewer for Alien: Earth, which nestles itself inside the franchise’s mythology but pursues its own distinct agenda. That’s no different from any of the films, of course, but compared to Romulus, the show feels more confident in its independence, and less beholden to its predecessors. Or maybe it’s just a matter of expert craftsmanship; the set pieces sizzle with vitality and surprise, while the anti-capitalist, technophobic themes receive the requisite breathing room. Sydney Chandler is an enjoyable cyborgian heroine, while Samuel Blenkin is deliciously despicable as an amoral entrepreneur whose smirking superiority will remind you of certain Silicon Valley reprobates. With due respect to that fucking sheep, the aliens are just window dressing. The real architect of humanity’s downfall has been living on Earth all along.
Coming tomorrow: the top 10.
Jeremy Beck is the editor-in-chief of MovieManifesto. He watches more movies and television than he probably should.