You can always tell what kind of year it was in the world of TV by your top ten list. Not so much by what makes your list, but by what doesn’t. By that standard, it’s been a fabulous year for television shows. The cuts this year were painful to make, but the nice thing about making a top ten list is you can write about your honorable mentions before you get to the main event. So, let me do just that before I talk about positions 10-1.
Irma Vep: The uber meta limited series from writer/director Olivier Assayas (based kinda/sorta on his film of the same name) is practically unclassifiable. It’s a funny, tragic, absurd look at a director going slightly mad and trying to hold it together long enough to finish a project. Even so, that description doesn’t really prepare you for the show, which I found delightful, moving, and confounding, often in the same scene. It should be noted that Irma Vep gives Alicia Vikander her best role since Ex Machina, which is reason enough to see it.
The Old Man: Filmed while its star Jeff Bridges was dealing with his cancer diagnosis, The Old Man is a throwback to the type of films we used to see in the ‘70s. Bridges plays a former CIA operative in hiding who gets embroiled in a high stakes case from his past. Bridges is extraordinary as usual, and the supporting cast of John Lithgow, Amy Brenneman, Alia Shawkat, EJ Bonilla, and Gbenga Akinnagbe are all top flight as well.
Dahmer – Monster: Perhaps the most polarizing series of the year, brought to you by the often controversial Ryan Murphy. I was not eager to sit with another serial killer show, but Dahmer completely upended my expectations by using the title character as a linchpin to focus on underserved and marginalized communities. In a show with so much horror on display, the scene of three gay deaf men of color sitting at a table in a pizza joint discussing their hopes and dreams was one of the loveliest, most heartfelt sequences of the year. Dahmer seemed like a shoo-in for my top ten, but the final two episodes get bogged down in procedure, even as they give the terrific Niecy Nash some fine scenes to play.
George & Tammy: It’s not all that easy to play the roles of distinctive country music icons like George Jones and Tammy Wynette, but then to sing their songs too? Well, that’s just what Michael Shannon and Jessica Chastain did. Not only did both of them get right at the tortured hearts of their characters, they voiced them in song as well. And while it would be hard to say that either of them sing as well as the characters they portray, they sing more than well enough. Being a kid from the south, I can tell you that every word that left their lips, whether in speech or in song, sounded like home to me.
The Andy Warhol Diaries: Trying to get to the heart of the enigma that is Andy Warhol seems an impossible feat, but The Andy Warhol Diaries comes remarkably close. The ingenious use of technology that allows Andy to narrate from his own book in a slightly robotic voice turns out to be a perfect decision when attempting to unveil a man so remote and mysterious. I wish the show had spent a little less time on Andy’s companion Jon Gould, but even that choice pays off in moving fashion by the final episode.
The Last Movie Stars: Ethan Hawke’s beautiful love letter to Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward is a wonderful work of documentary assemblage and emotion. While it’s clear that Hawke loves his subjects, he never lets his affection get in the way of going behind the curtain to showcase the sometimes challenging nature of their relationship and their personalities. Newman was a functional alcoholic and Woodward was often ambivalent about motherhood while somehow being dutiful at the same time. And man, is the final image ever a keeper.
Fleishman is in Trouble: Perhaps the hardest cut of all, and made only because I have not seen the complete season yet to assess it in full. Jesse Eisenberg is at the top of his Jesse Eisenberg game as a recently divorced father trying to balance his work as a doctor and his responsibilities at home. As good as Eisenberg is, it’s Claire Danes as his ex-wife who steals the show. Episode 7 in particular showcases Danes in a way that not only turns your vantagepoint of the show on its head, it also reminds you of what an incredible actor Danes is. It’s a grueling episode where Danes has to crumble on screen continually, and every time she is asked to, she finds bold and inventive ways to illuminate a woman going over the edge and into a full-blown nervous breakdown.
10. Let The Right One In (Showtime): Maybe the most surprising show of the year for me. I wasn’t sure we needed a third filmed iteration after two great movies based on the Swedish novel of the same name, but show creator Andrew Hinderaker’s take on the material goes well beyond horror and pulp (although those are in here in abundance), and somehow presents itself as a most humane story about family, friendship, and sacrifice. The show couldn’t ask for two better leads with which to ground it in its own reality. Demian Bichir, as the father of a child vampire carrying the guilt of the killing he must do to keep her alive, is both charming and haunting while Anika Noni Rose as the mother of a young boy who befriends Bechir’s cursed daughter is simply magnificent. Yet the show hinges on the two child performances, and you’d have a hard time finding two better than Madison Taylor Baez as Bechir’s daughter Eleanor, and Ian Foreman as the young boy Isaiah. These are challenging parts with decidedly complex emotions at play, and those two youngsters are heartbreakers.
9. Better Call Saul (AMC): I haven’t yet seen a show that didn’t do itself a disservice by splitting itself into two parts, and the same is true of the final season of Better Call Saul. Chopping the show in two hampered the first half’s slow burning minimalism that led into the last episodes of the series. That being said, all the reasons you have followed the show in the past are here in spades: sharp writing, formidable acting, sly plot-twists, pitch-black humor, and some of the most creative camera work ever seen on television. More than anything, there was its tremendous finale, which eschewed a Breaking Bad-like blowout in favor of a more muted conclusion. Odenkirk and Seahorn cemented their legends in those final moments (shot beautifully in black and white), conveying so much in spoken word, pauses, and silence. It may well have been the show’s finest hour, which is one hell of a way to stick the landing.
8. We Own This City (HBOMAX): Despite all the critical huzzahs and hosannas that are typically heaped on a David Simon show, when awards season came around, Simon (creator of The Wire, Treme, Show Me A Hero, The Deuce, and The Plot Against America) once again saw his latest creation go largely unnoticed. This tough-as-nails limited series about real-life police corruption in Baltimore is as literate and tightly written as any show Simon has produced. We Own This City also gave us a career-best performance from the wildly charismatic Jon Bernthal. Cast as the face of police corruption, Bernthal gives us the full arc of his character—from hopeful rookie, to an abuser of his position, to in-denial jail bird—with economy and a brave amount of flash that could have seemed silly if not for Bernthal’s completely committed performance. Simon, his show, his crew, and his cast deserved better from the industry.
7. Ozark (Netflix): Like Better Call Saul, Ozark was hampered a bit by the decision to present itself in two parts. Still, Jason Bateman’s crowning achievement (no hate mail, Arrested Development fans) fared better than other shows with split seasons thanks largely to having an electrifying seventh episode (effectively the halfway point). I know many have taken issue with the show’s finale, and while I can understand the desire for a different outcome, I think Ozark illustrates how a more satisfying ending is not better than the right ending. Having Wendy Byrde explain with just two words (“Since when?”) that those with money and power are always the last to pay a price was, well, priceless. Much like the cut-to-black that closed out The Sopranos that has aged so well, I believe Ozark’s similar cut, and then the bang of rifle fire, will do the same.
6. The White Lotus (HBOMAX): I think I’m probably in the minority here, but I enjoyed the second coming of The White Lotus even more than I did its inaugural season. While season one may have had wilder scenarios and more colorful performances, I found season two’s toned down approach nearly perfect. The concerns of the characters seemed more relatable and the performances more subtle. Even Jennifer Coolidge as Tanya turns down the volume just a little, all to the betterment of the show. The most compelling storyline involved Aubrey Plaza (who between White Lotus and Emily the Criminal is having quite a year) and Will Sharpe as a couple whose largely unspoken disenchantment in their marriage comes to a head as Will’s character tries to impress an old college mate who was clearly never much of a friend to begin with. If nothing else, it’s impossible to deny Mike White’s gorgeous homage to Antonioni’s L’Avventura with Plaza tracing Monica Vitti’s steps through an Italian courtyard while men look on wantonly.
5. Five Days at Memorial (Apple TV+): Taking on the moral, emotional, and physical challenges faced by a hospital abandoned by its corporation as well as its city, state, and federal governments after Hurricane Katrina is one heavy lift. But what producers Carlton Cuse and John Ridley did most brilliantly in asking the question of whether it’s acceptable in dire circumstances to end someone’s suffering without their consent is simply not take sides at all. Every character’s viewpoint is understandable and arguable, even if you don’t agree with them. Vera Farmiga is stellar as Doctor Anna Pou, the physician at the center of the show. Farmiga easily sells that Dr. Pou’s interpretation of duty of care favors the side of eliminating pain over extending life. Those who would oppose her decision include fellow doctors and nurses in the hospital, as well as two fabulously matched DoJ prosecutors (played brilliantly by Molly Hager and Robert Gaston) who are all given equal time to offer their perspectives. There was an easier way to make Five Days at Memorial and still have it be dramatic and affecting. A less subtle approach might have made Pou either a villain or a saint. Cuse and Ridley took the harder path, and it paid off with the best limited series of the year.
4. Pachinko (Apple TV+): Dense, layered, and gorgeously shot, Pachinko is one of the most beautiful shows I’ve ever seen. Telling a multi-generational tale about Korean immigrants making a new life in Japan, Pachinko is profound in its story construction and use of history, while also supplying three of the most stunning scenes I’ve seen all year. One where a sick man asks ever so gently for the hand of an abandoned single mother, another where a dying woman is taken up to the roof of a hospital to catch the last rays of sun she will ever see, and finally, a businessman who at the last minute betrays his employer to save his integrity, then runs at breakneck speed into a driving rainstorm and dances to a cover band playing the Cure’s “In-Between Days.” All three moments left me breathless. I was surprised to learn that there will be a season two of Pachinko. As the show ended, it felt so complete and moving that I simply can’t imagine how creator Soo Hugh can build upon that perfection, but I can’t wait to see her try.
3. Tokyo Vice (HBOMAX): The most compulsively watchable show I saw all year. While I do have it in the third position, it’s the only show on my list that I watched multiple times. The great Michael Mann sets a perfect template in the pilot for a crusading gaijin (foreigner) journalist (played by a never better Ansel Elgort) who finds his outsider status to be both useful and harmful in his effort to infiltrate the Japanese mafia. At first blush, that description may make the series sound like another show about a white guy going to a so-called exotic land and leading the story while actors of color support the white guy’s mission. Tokyo Vice (based on the true story of journalist Jake Adelstein) avoids that trope by having Jake recede a bit over the season’s final episodes and turning the show into a true ensemble (Show Kasamatsu, Rinko Kikuchi, and the wonderful Ken Watanabe stand out in particular). Tokyo Vice ends with a clear line to a second season, and I was greatly pleased that season two was not compromised by all the sturm und drang over at HBOMAX. The show is not only gritty, gorgeous, and exciting, but it also has some of the best writing on TV, courtesy of playwright (and executive producer) J.T. Rogers and his fellow scribes. Now I’m just going to have to figure out how to schedule my other show-watching needs over viewing season two’s episodes multiple times. I suppose I can always just sleep less. Tokyo Vice is worth a tired morning.
2. The Bear (FX): Despite receiving a number of terrific reviews and me being an admirer of Jeremy Allan White’s work on Shameless, I got to The Bear late. I’m not sure why; I love sandwiches and Chicago, and The Bear makes great use of both. White plays Carmen, a renowned chef who leaves a gig at a fancy restaurant to take over his brother Michael’s sandwich shop after Michael commits suicide. The first episode is so hectic and caffeinated that I can imagine some viewers might have felt overwhelmed or even turned off, but as the series continues, the pace shifts and the story coheres brilliantly as we start to learn why Carmen feels so compelled to save the restaurant (known lovingly as “The Beef”). Then, just as you’re getting settled in, episode seven ratchets up the anxiety as you see Carmen lose control and alienate his staff. This episode, a tour de force in itself, is shot in a single twenty minute take. It is absolutely bravura filmmaking. You’d think the next and final episode of season one would not be able to live up to the brilliance of its predecessor, but you’d be wrong. In fact, the final shot is the best season closer of the year. It’s just perfect.
1. The Man Who Fell To Earth (Showtime): And now for my favorite show of the year and the saddest entry on this list. Every once in a great while, you might see a film or a show and think, “I feel like this was made for me.” As a huge fan of David Bowie’s music and of the classic film version of The Man Who Fell To Earth he starred in, this series had my attention from the start. While I certainly had my reservations about a remake, after seeing that the show was created by Alex Kurtzman and Jenny Lumet (both take sci-fi seriously) and would be starring Chiwetel Ejiofor, Naomie Harris, Bill Nighy, and Clarke Peters, I felt very encouraged. Even so, my enthusiasm for the series could not have prepared me for what this team of cast and crew produced. First of all, The Man Who Fell To Earth is not a remake, it’s a continuation (Nighy plays the Bowie character from the film many years later), which was a fascinating and daring choice to have made. By updating the premise, the show touches on weighty subjects like race, global warming, and the possible end of human existence—and yet somehow does it without a heavy hand.
And then there’s Ejiofor’s performance as an alien come to earth with an extraordinary ability to learn our language and way of life quickly, but not so fast that his learning curve doesn’t provide a remarkable amount of laughs for a series so full of big ideas and high drama. Ejiofor’s ability to manage his character’s subtle growth from one episode to the next is impossible to overpraise (especially when you consider that this show was shot out of sequence!). It’s truly one of the greatest performances I have ever seen. Just as slyly as the show works humor into the mix, there are loads of nods to Bowie throughout. Some are obvious (each episode is named after a Bowie song) and some are Easter eggs for the die-hards, such as the moment when Ejiofor and Nighy speak to each other in lyrics from Bowie’s “Space Oddity.” It’s the kind of moment you have to see to fully appreciate, but for someone like me, it was an absolute jaw-dropper.
As I said earlier, my number one slot is also my saddest entry. Not enough eyes found The Man Who Fell To Earth and Showtime chose to cancel the series after just one season. It’s hard to fall in love with something and have it taken away so quickly, but the one season that does exist will have a chance in the streaming universe to live on and find the audience it so deserves. And if you’re thinking to yourself, I don’t want to invest in a show that has no ending, well, let me just say, the finale of season one works brilliantly as an open ending. It’s a show that may not end with a ribbon wrapped around it, but it does end in hope. And that’s something you can never have too much of. Still, I sure would have liked to have had more of The Man Who Fell To Earth.
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