The 10 Best TV Shows of 2021

Heléne Yorke in The Other Two; Jeremy Strong in Succession; Mackenzie Davis in Station Eleven; Reneé Rapp in The Sex Lives of College Girls; Margaret Qualley in Maid

And here we are. We’ve spent the week ranking all 108 TV shows that we watched in 2021. At long last, we’ve arrived at the top 10. If you missed the previous pieces, you can find them at the following links:

#s 108-95 (tiers 11 and 10)
#s 94-84 (tier 9)
#s 83-61 (tiers 8 and 7)
#s 60-41 (tiers 6 and 5)
#s 40-31 (tier 4)
#s 30-21 (tier 3)
#s 20-11 (tier 2)


Tier 1: The top 10
10. Midnight Mass (Netflix, Season 1). A literalistic description of Midnight Mass might make it sound silly. Here is a series about a small, quiet island town whose peaceful tranquility is severely interrupted when it suddenly becomes a haven for—spoiler alert!—vampires. It’s a faintly absurd show that risks growing even more absurd because it takes itself absolutely seriously. Yet it’s that sincerity—the willingness to contemplate themes of faith, forgiveness, and salvation with frankness and without irony—which makes it so powerful. As is ever the case with the work of Mike Flanagan (both of whose prior Netflix series also made their respective year’s top 10 on this site), it’s superlatively crafted, with fluid camerawork and unnerving patience. But despite delivering some startling jolts, Midnight Mass isn’t as pound-for-pound scary as either of his Haunting shows, because cultivating fear isn’t its primary goal. It’s more interested in fusing familiar horror tropes with genuine theological examination, and it explores the inherent paradoxes of religion with uncommon candor, and without corresponding judgment. It also features gratifyingly complex characters, most notably Hamish Linklater’s morally conflicted priest. Samantha Sloyan, meanwhile, is unforgettable as one of the most deliciously vile villains ever created. Midnight Mass has the decency to imagine a dark world that’s nonetheless lit by hope. But when Sloyan is on screen, it recognizes that evil is very real, and all too human. Read More

The Best Movies of 2020

Viktoria Miroshnichenko in Beanpole; Julia Garner in The Assistant; Elisabeth Moss in The Invisible Man; Saoirse Ronan in Ammonite; John David Washington in Tenet

In 2020, we stopped going to the movies, so the movies came to us.

It was, to say the least, a challenging year. In addition to spreading disease itself, the COVID-19 pandemic propagated innumerable strains of misinformation. Many of these were dangerous in terms of public health (“The cure can’t be worse than the disease!” “Are the vaccines actually killing people??”), but I naturally found myself drawn to (and repelled by) the specious argument that COVID was heralding the end of cinema as we know it. This wasn’t really a new outcry but was instead a mutation of an ancient form of doomsday prophesying, mingling contemporary scientific concerns with age-old fears. And so it was proclaimed: Theaters are dead. Streamers have won. The collective pleasure of piling into large auditoriums has been replaced by the lonely convenience of turning on your TV. Christopher Nolan’s next blockbuster will be automatically downloaded to your phone.

The consternation over the long-term viability of the theatrical experience isn’t entirely unfounded. After all, while fretting about declining box-office receipts—and lamenting the homogeneity of the Disneyfied movies that do dominate the market—is something of an annual pastime in critical circles, COVID really did shut down theaters for most of the year; many of them shuttered permanently. Even now, as vaccinations rise and the public cautiously returns to a pre-pandemic “normal” (some of us more cautiously than others), it’s fair to wonder whether theaters successfully weathered the storm, and whether viewers who grew accustomed to the homey perks of on-demand viewing might resist returning to the multiplex or the art house in large numbers. Read More

The 10 Best TV Shows of 2020

Anya Taylor-Joy in The Queen's Gambit; Rhea Seehorn in Better Call Saul; The Lady in the Lake in The Haunting of Bly Manor; Maddie Phillips in Teenage Bounty Hunters; Will Arnett in BoJack Horseman

And here we are. Having spent the past week counting down every TV that show we watched in 2020—all 124 of them—we now arrive at the top 10. If you missed any of the prior installments, you can find them at the following links:

#s 124-110 (tiers 12 and 11)
#s 109-85 (tiers 10 and 9)
#s 84-61 (tiers 8 and 7)
#s 60-41 (tiers 6 and 5)
#s 40-31 (tier 4)
#s 30-21 (tier 3)
#s 20-11 (tier 2)


Tier 1: The top 10
10. Teenage Bounty Hunters (Netflix, Season 1). In empirical terms, there may have been 10 TV shows in 2020 that were better than Teenage Bounty Hunters. But in raw emotional terms—in metrics like “number of times a series made me squeal with glee” or “most scenes that made me leap off of my couch”—this show simply needed to be in my top 10. Sorrowful and joyous, predictable and adventurous, it soars with a combination of traditionalism and modernity, mingling old-fashioned conventionality with new-age vigor. Conceptually, it’s a simple but fun premise: twin sisters (Maddie Phillips and Anjelica Bette Fellini) team up with a grizzled veteran skip tracer (Kadeem Hardison) to track down bail-jumpers—a task they’re bizarrely well-suited for, thanks to their powers of deductive reasoning, technological knowhow, and rich-white-girl access—while also balancing academic duties at their tony prep school. If that sounds ridiculous, it is, but it works, thanks to the actors’ charm and the series’ incandescent joie de vivre. There’s a wonderful warmth to the show, and its relationships—between sisters, between lovers (straight and gay), between confused kids and their helpless parents—brim with deep feeling. Teenage Bounty Hunters may be silly at heart, but its heart is far from silly. Read More

The 20 Best Movies of the 2010s: Part II

We’re counting down our picks for the best movies of the 2010s. If you missed #s 11-20—along with our discussion of the decade at large, and of which films just missed the cut—you can check them out here. Also, please remember that 20 is a very small number, so if your favorite film of the decade doesn’t appear on my list, rest assured that it’s nothing personal. Except where it is.

On to the top 10.


10. The Lobster (2016). From the opening scene of Dogtooth, which found three nameless adult children listening to cassette tapes on which their father intoned inaccurate definitions of basic words, Yorgos Lanthimos put his indelibly weird stamp on the decade. Years later, the Greek auteur uncorked two more stunners—I liked The Killing of a Sacred Deer and The Favourite even more than Dogtooth—but it’s The Lobster that’s most stuck with me. Lanthimos’ usual tics are on full display—the heavily mannered dialogue, the formal rigor, the absurdist deadpan—but while the movie bristles with strangeness and creativity, it’s also oddly elegiac. A romance where people only pretend to be in love—as well as a comedy where nobody laughs, and a dystopian thriller where the jackbooted thugs always say “please”—The Lobster is distressingly frank about the challenge of finding happiness in the modern world. Yet it’s genuinely heartfelt too, treating its beleaguered characters (led by Colin Farrell, in the performance of his career) with sincerity and respect. It’s a decidedly original work—its bizarre vision could only spring from a mind as twisted as Lanthimos’—but the yearning that it articulates is universal. (Full review here; streaming on Netflix.) Read More

The 20 Best Movies of the 2010s: Part I

Every “best of” list is by definition ridiculous, but best-of-the-decade columns constitute a particular form of lunacy. For standard year-end lists, writers are reacting in the moment, often (at least in my experience) only having seen each film once. The process is instinctive, reactive, impulsive; we’re basing our rankings off of relatively recent viewing experiences, often still buzzing from the visceral and emotional highs they gave us. The relatively short timeframe helps us make fair comparisons; when everything is equally fresh in our minds, we’re less vulnerable to recency bias or the primacy effect.

The method of compiling a “best of the decade” list is different. Instead of relying on the power of immediacy, it hinges on the peculiarity of memory. What strikes you in the moment isn’t always what lingers with you. Films that once landed with considerable force recede from view; conversely, certain scenes and images implant themselves in your mind, refusing to be washed away with the tide. Read More