The Best TV Shows of 2023

It’s been said that nothing much happens on “The Gilded Age,” but if you believe that’s the truth, you haven’t been paying attention. Julian Fellowes’ drama showcases a time when income taxes were non-existent, opulence was aplenty (for a select few) and the old money and nouveau riche were at odds. The New York-set series follows an eclectic cast of characters, from Bertha Russell (Carrie Coon), whose railroad tycoon husband, George (Morgan Spector), has launched them into a new stratosphere of wealth, to Agnes Van Rhijn (Christine Baranski), a vicious old money socialite with razor-thin patience, there is so much for the viewers to feast their eyes upon. Expanding beyond East 61st St., the series also examines the Black experience outside of servitude through journalist Peggy Scott (Denée Benton), the daughter of an affluent Brooklyn pharmacist and a friend to Mrs.Van Rhijn’s niece Marian Brook (Louisa Jacobson). The contrast between racial violence and oppressive labor against warring Opera Houses and extravagant vacation homes showcases the oft-conflicting societal shifts in America. It’s sparkling, dramatic and grand. Also, watching Cynthia Nixon transform into Ada Brook, Agnes’ meek spinster, is just delicious television. Sure, there aren’t any overly sultry scenes or “true” drama, save for the racial violence that Peggy witnesses during her ill-fated trip down South, but sometimes you just want to linger in a show, not be dragged through it.

Nikole Hannah-Jones’ brilliant long-form reframing of the Black American experience in “The 1619 Project” was one of the catalysts that reinvigorated the extensive book banning across southern and middle America. However, following the successes of the New York Times piece and book, the expansive undertaking was adapted as a six-part series on Hulu. Hannah-Jones’ thesis says the actual founding of America began in 1619 when the first Africans stepped on American soil. Analyzing the impact of slavery on every aspect of our society, from our government to popular culture, the scholar tackles a variety of themes, including capitalism and fear of the Black body, to music and democracy —even infusing her familial history in the show to showcase all of the beautiful and rotten nuances that make us so uniquely American. “The 1619 Project” reiterates how the Black experience is deeply ingrained in the nation’s fabric. If you want a crash course in American history, or if you simply want to see why conservatives are all up in arms over the truth, this is a series to watch. If nothing else, it’s a reminder that if we don’t truly face our past, we are doomed to repeat it time and time again.

At long last, Brie Larson is showcasing her acting prowess in a worthy project. Set in the 1950s, “Lessons in Chemistry,” based on the book by  Bonnie Garmus, follows Elizabeth Zott (Larson), a trained chemist relegated to the role of lab tech due to the sexist practices of the time. Determined to put her head down and forge ahead with her research, she finds herself inextricably drawn to fellow scientist Calvin Evans (Lewis Pullman). What unfurls between them is a stunning romance rarely displayed so evocatively on television. But “Lesson in Chemistry” is no dreamy historical display. Elizabeth is adamantly against marriage and motherhood; her connection with Calvin is neither something she sought nor remains central to the story — a rather refreshing take. Unless you were a straight cis white man, living in the 1950s presented layered challenges, and Elizabeth has more than her fair share. The series showcases Elizabeth navigating the pitfalls of single motherhood until an unlikely gig at a cooking show, “Supper at Six,” offers her a way to fuse her knowledge of chemistry into something a bit more socially acceptable. Though “Lessons in Chemistry” centers on Elizabeth, it isn’t narrow-minded. Her neighbor-turned-best friend, Harriet (Aja Naomi King), is a Black woman navigating different obstacles. The series also highlights the effects of urban renewal and its decimation of Black communities. What’s most intriguing about “Lessons in Chemistry” is its intelligence. Over time, women have shifted and bent to survive. But as Elizabeth learns, this type of performance has a cost.

Who doesn’t love to solve a puzzle? Told through the perspective of amateur detective and coder Darby Hart (Emma Corrin), the series’ framework is a murder mystery. However, to call it that would be far too simplistic. An intriguing web of clues and lies set against stunning settings, the show is about human connection, our obsession with inflicting pain on others (especially women) and why those in power are increasingly unhinged. While capitalism and technology are significant themes, the series also unfurls like a coming-of-age story. In the present day, Darby is a 24-year-old burgeoning writer invited to a retreat led by tech genius Andy Ronson (Clive Owen). However, in past flashbacks, Darby was just an 18-year-old girl trying to solve old cold cases and falling in love for the first time. Watching these two versions of Darby as she tries to crack the most meaningful case of her life is hauntingly good, and “The OA” creators Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij delivered television gold with “A Murder at the End of the World.” 

Spinoffs are typically better left in the development room, but every once in a while, a show stands just as tall as the original. “Gen V,” the college-set spinoff of Prime Video’s satirical superhero series “The Boys,” is one of those shows. Set just after the events of Season 3 of the original show, “Gen V” takes place on the Vought International-run Godolkin University campus. God U bolsters young supes who are on track to fight crime or become overblown influencers. This series follows Marie Moreau (Jaz Sinclair), whose ability to manipulate blood presented itself during her first menstrual cycle, destroying her family in the process. Now, having aged out of the Vought version of foster care, Marie sees God U as her chance to do good in the world and perhaps even reunite with her estranged younger sister. “Gen V” tackles themes that directly affect young adults – especially supes whose families sacrificed them for the possibility of having extraordinary abilities. “Gen V” is also full of mystery, gore, delirium and humor, which are sorely lacking in recent series and films from Marvel and DC.

There is nothing sexier than a clandestine love affair, even if the fallout is destined to be heartbreaking. Based on the bestselling novel by Thomas Mallon, “Fellow Travelers” follows a sweeping, three-decades-long, erotic romance that stretches from Sen. Joseph McCarthy’s war on subversives to the HIV/AIDS epidemic of the 1980s. Matt Bomer stars as Hawkins “Hawk” Fuller, a federal bureaucrat who easily hides his sexuality behind his charm and hyper-masculinity. He falls for Tim Laughlin (Johnathan Bailey), McCarthy’s boyish and naive assistant. Not only is the chemistry between Bomer and Bailey electric (like, extremely hot), but “Fellow Travelers” also highlights the absolute devastation of bigotry and homophobia. Series that take deep dives into the past allow us to see how far we’ve come as a society, and where we need to stretch and extend ourselves to do better. “Fellow Travelers” also underscores the cruelty of shame, and the price so many have paid to live their lives freely and wholly despite the rampant inhumanity of others.

There is nothing else like “I’m a Virgo” on television, which in itself is a stunning feat, considering the complete saturation of the medium. However, there is no other creator quite like Boots Riley. A sharp critique of capitalism, infused in a coming-of-tale, the Oakland-set “I’m a Virgo” follows 19-year-old Cootie (Jharrel Jerome), a 13-foot tall Black man who has been raised by his loving but easily spooked Aunt Lafrancine (Carmen Ejogo) and Uncle Martisse (Mike Epps.) For the entirety of his life, Cootie has remained indoors. Martisse and Lafrancine are well aware of the anxieties of raising a young Black man, and Cootie’s giant form has prompted them to keep him hidden. They’ve also warned him of the prejudices and horrors he might encounter in their rapidly gentrifying community. However, Cootie’s desire for friends, curiosity about fast food and an unexpected love interest compel him to dive head-first into the real world. Riley’s use of magical realism beautifully illustrates how powerful people manipulate systems to enrich themselves and keep impoverished communities underfoot. “I’m a Virgo” is whimsical, moving and downright strange.

The story of Anne Frank, the young Jewish girl who hid in an attic with her family to escape Nazi persecution, has been told across the ages. However, accounts of the people who put themselves in harm’s way to do the right thing are rarely examined. National Geographic’s “A Small Light” offers a piece of our collective history from a different perspective. Bel Powley stars as a captivating Miep Gies, Otto Frank’s (Liev Schreiber) secretary who risked everything to save the Frank family and others. Miep ultimately preserved Anne’s diary, which is why the events of her life are well-known today. The Franks’ story is just one aspect of this series. “A Small Light” unpacks Miep’s personal history. An immigrant in Amsterdam who didn’t always align with “traditional” 20th-century values, Miep refused to turn away from the horrors around her or be silenced even when it could have cost her everything. Not only does “A Small Light” showcase what’s at stake if bystanders remain silent in the face of injustice, but it’s also a haunting display of how quickly spaces and people can be destroyed and morphed in the face of terror, war and pure evil.

With shows like “My So-Called Life” and “Dawson’s Creek,” the ’90s still has a chokehold on YA dramas. However, amid the absolute frenzy of television being produced today, every so often, a television show perfectly captures that magical confusion and euphoria of teendom. Based on Alice Oseman’s comic books, the U.K.-set “Heartstopper” is a vividly stunning teen dream. The show follows the bashful Charlie Spring (Joe Locke), who, after a year of emotional turmoil, finds himself in a blissful romance with Nick Nelson (Kit Connor), the magnetic captain of their school’s rugby team. Though Nick and Charlie’s romance sits at the center of the series, “Heartstopper” stretches beyond their courtship. By zeroing in on the friend groups surrounding the pair, the show captures the neverending changes of adolescence, evolving friendships, sexual awakenings and the work it takes to learn who you are and how to feel comfortable in your skin. So many other YA dramas depict sex-crazed, alcohol-fueled youth, and while that is undoubtedly someone’s story, “Heartstopper” offers something distinct. It’s a series about tenderness, vulnerability and leaning into safe spaces. We could all use a little more of this emotional truth.

If we are truly at the end of days, what better way to dissociate from reality than to lean into another realm toward a world where society has collapsed under the terrifying cordyceps fungus that turns people into walking zombies? Ultimately, it would always be the heart-wrenching and vast “The Last of Us.” Created by  Craig Mazin and Neil Druckmann, the drama series delivered some of the most breathtaking hours of television this year. The show follows Joel (Pedro Pascal), a rage-filled man who lost his only daughter at the beginning of the apocalypse. On a quest to reconnect with his brother, he’s become the reluctant caretaker of a teen girl named Ellie (Bella Ramsey), who may hold the key to the fungus’ antidote in her blood. Like Druckmann’s video game upon which the show is based, the framework of “The Last of Us” works like an apocalyptic road adventure, as Joel begrudgingly tries to keep himself and Ellie alive. But the core of the series is much more intricate than that. Mazin and Druckmann often echo the past. In the pilot, we see Joel’s life with his daughter before it was destroyed. His memories contrast against a wide-eyed Ellie, who has never known a different way of living. While Ramsey and Pascal deliver incredible performances, “The Last of Us” isn’t afraid to turn its spotlight on an expansive ensemble, people also desperate to make a life in uninhabitable conditions. From Sam (Kevin Woddard), the deaf boy whose infection devastates Ellie, to Bill (Murray Bartlett) and Frank (Nick Offerman), whose displays of love and vulnerability made for one of the best television episodes in recent years, the series is a goldmine of humanity. The real world often appears to be teetering on the edge of something disastrous, but “The Last of Us” captures what’s so beautifully raw about being human.

Honorable mentions: “The Buccaneers” (Apple TV+), “The Crown” (Netflix),  “Frasier” (Paramount +),  “Swarm” (Prime Video), “Winning Time” (HBO), “Power Book III: Raising Kanan” (Starz)

It’s been a banner year for animation, featuring strong debuts such as “Scott Pilgrim Takes Off” and “Blue Eye Samurai.” But the show that makes the best use of the medium’s potential may be a hidden gem on Max. “Scavengers Reign” is a survival saga that follows human castaways stranded on a foreign planet with an eye toward the alien ecosystems they’re suddenly enmeshed in. Creators Joseph Bennett and Charles Huettner riff on ecological fables like “Avatar,” “Annihilation” and “Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind” to craft a world — called Vesta — that’s distinctly their own. Vesta is as beautiful as it is potentially lethal, and its shipwrecked visitors often toggle from awe to panic and back again at a moment’s notice. “Scavengers Reign” pairs the engrossing ambience of a nature documentary with the propulsive thrust of narrative. Its characters are fully realized and flawed, but their main scene partners are an environment they need to intuit the workings of alongside the audience. The 12-episode season is a deep cut worth seeking out (or renewing, if you’re the powers that be and Warner Bros. Discovery).

All latter-era “Real Housewives” acts as a metacommentary on the mega-franchise well into its second decade — one that’s sometimes struggled to adjust to changing mores around alcohol consumption, racial representation and electoral politics. (“Salt Lake City,” also having a banner year, can feel like “Housewives” as interpreted by the contestants on “RuPaul’s Drag Race.”) No season embodies this truism like the to-the-studs renovation of “RHONY,” a pivot all the more engrossing for its inevitable awkwardness. Witness the spectacle of style icon Jenna Lyons deigning to do the show so she can hock her line of fake lashes, visibly grimacing as her castmates squabble! Marvel at publicist Jessel Taank at last winning over the audience through sheer force of will, refusing to let reality puncture her privileged bubble! Cast with an eye toward racial, sexual and cultural diversity, the reboot initially seemed to suffer for the lack of an organic connection among its stars. But watching them struggle to approximate everyone’s shared understanding of what “Housewives” looks and acts like, it turns out, is half the fun.

Danny McBride and his braintrust didn’t make any radical moves in the third season of their family farce, in which a dissolute clan of Southern televangelists reach increasing heights of hypocrisy. They’ve still managed to one-up themselves with each passing year, matching the maximalism of their subjects with bigger spectacles, more famous guest stars and deeper belly laughs. “The Righteous Gemstones” is frequently compared to fellow HBO offering “Succession,” but the show stops short of punishing the Gemstones for their moral rot. Instead, it lets the children bumble their way into leading the church on their own; the monster-truck-assisted raid on an extremist compound, an actual plague of locusts and the “Family Feud”-style game show called “Baby Billy’s Bible Bonkers” are just there to spice up the ride. The logic of latter-day prestige TV holds that it’s not enough to simply be funny. “The Righteous Gemstones” proves that if you put the joke first, the visual panache and grand statements about America can follow.

Spinoffs are a fraught enterprise, tasked with living up to their flagship’s success while also establishing their own identity. Yet in following up on the success of “The Boys,” collegiate comedy “Gen V” adds a surprisingly poignant layer of adolescent angst to the cynical sensibility of the hit superhero satire. The students of Godolkin University, or God U, have to balance the typical stressors of campus life with the pressure to impress their corporate handlers with the revelation that their abilities come not from luck or fate, but a secret chemical injection. This context imbues co-eds like Marie Moreau (Jaz Sinclair) and Emma Meyer (Lizze Broadway) with pathos, grounding the literal cartoon violence that surrounds them. (One character struggling with delusions sees the entire world as Muppet-like figures.) “Gen V” never feels bogged down by exposition, nor juggling its own story with a master narrative. The connection to “The Boys” is evident enough; there’s no need to convolute the plot to underline what already comes through in a shared sense of wicked fun and earnest fury.

“Bridgerton” may be sexy, scandalous and attention-grabbing, but it’s yet to become a truly great show. Enter executive producer Shonda Rhimes, who took the reins of prequel “Queen Charlotte” to show us how it’s done — “it” being a romance that deftly balances escapist fantasy with trenchant, modern themes. When a young Queen Charlotte (India Amarteifio) weds King George III (Cory Mylchreest), it’s just the beginning of their half-century-long love story. By showing how Charlotte and George navigate the mental illness that would eventually make her a de facto ruler, “Queen Charlotte” captures the compromise that marks true partnership, plus the electric chemistry that forms its foundation. And through a younger Lady Danbury (Arsema Thomas), a romance adaptation starts to explore the idea that happily-ever-after may not be everyone’s end goal. “Queen Charlotte” perfects the “Bridgerton” formula, but it also pushes the concept in unexpected directions.

Reboot culture would be much less exhausting if the cerebral, ingenuous “Dead Ringers” were the norm. Showrunner Alice Birch (“Succession,” “Normal People”) expands and inverts the David Cronenberg film into something new — a process that, in itself, acts as an homage to the auteur’s transfixing form of body horror. As Beverly and Elliot Mantle, Rachel Weisz delivers a dual performance that transcends the visual gimmickry required to stage it. Clad in the film’s iconic, blood-red scrubs, these twin doctors mess with the very machinery of life itself. Their mission to revolutionize birth, funded by a Sackler-esque benefactor, raises questions of medical ethics and the nature of motherhood, yet they’re explored with a perverse sense of humor. Whatever the opposite of an empty act of IP management is, “Dead Ringers” is it.

Natasha Lyonne has the seasoned rasp and vaudevillian air of a bygone era, so in teaming up with filmmaker Rian Johnson, the two settled on a template with an equally throwback vibe: the “Columbo”-style procedural. On the run from a powerful enemy in her Plymouth Barracuda, Lyonne’s Charlie Cale can’t ignore her built-in bullshit detector, a gift — or curse — that makes her an ace amateur detective. Lyonne is such a singular screen presence that, combined with Charlie’s unique skill set, her aura is enough to give “Poker Face” a legible identity as the story switches locations, supporting casts and tones from episode to episode. The show even does away with the whodunit, revealing the killer in the cold open á la its inspiration. “Poker Face” sacrifices the satisfying thrill of the last-minute reveal; watching Charlie work her way into a new milieu, from a rivalry among racing families to a metal band’s tour bus, is pleasure enough.

It’s a relief Bridget Everett’s richly deserved starring vehicle has already been renewed for Season 3, because “Somebody Somewhere” is precisely the kind of show endangered by the current era of cost-cutting and IP obsession. With exquisite empathy and care, “Somebody Somewhere” traces how Everett’s Sam builds a life for herself in her Kansas hometown, reconnecting with both her high school classmate Joel (Jeff Hiller) and her artistic practice — bawdy, belted numbers modeled after Everett’s real-life cabaret act. In Season 2, “Somebody Somewhere” moved from the immediate aftermath of a death in Sam’s family to longer-term questions about building community, such as how Joel’s new romance might affect his relationship with Sam. Building to a joyous backyard wedding and Everett’s rousing rendition of “Gloria,” this season of “Somebody Somewhere” is a testament to the big impact of small human moments. (Though if HBO wanted to make a killing off of merch, they could make the expletive-laden pillows Sam’s sister embroiders into a reality.)

Despite the explosion of new stories and forms over television’s last decade, “Reservation Dogs” instantly stood out for its singular perspective and tone. Co-created by Taika Waititi and showrunner Sterlin Harjo, the FX coming-of-age comedy began with a confidence that only deepened over a three-season arc that concluded earlier this year. Centered on four Native teenagers still grieving the loss of their close friend to suicide, “Reservation Dogs” slowly widened its scope into a longitudinal study of community in small town Oklahoma. Its final season featured flashbacks and even ghosts to incorporate history into the show’s ever-broadening scope, revealing the origin story of the mythical Deer Lady (Kaniehtiio Horn) and the ways prior generations dealt with similar problems. But “Reservation Dogs” ultimately came down to figures like Bear (D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai) and Elora (Devery Jacobs) — teenagers on the precipice of the rest of their lives, learning to live with uncertainty through the support of their loved ones.

There’s no need to overthink this: The best show of 2023 was the conclusion to the best show of the last half decade. The family drama hit on an ending perfectly in line with its portrait of American decline through the eyes of a Murdoch-like media dynasty, handing an empty CEO chair to grasping interloper Tom Wambsgans (Matthew Macfadyen) and leaving the actual Roys alienated from both each other and themselves. The final season still managed to surprise in reaching a climax that played out the only way it could, a tension exemplified by killing off patriarch Logan suddenly and out of sight. “Succession” takes its name from what will happen once Logan is out of the picture, yet his death is as shocking and surprisingly emotional as any on TV. The series’ final shot returns to a motif it’s used many times before, an image of a shattered Kendall (Jeremy Strong) contemplating the void as symbolized by a vast expanse of water. Yet the scene lands with the potency of any acid one-liner or intimate betrayal from the series’ four-volume run, leaving its legacy firmly secure.

Honorable mentions: “Barry,” “How to With John Wilson,” “Jury Duty,” “Mrs. Davis,” “The Other Two”