40. “Broad City” (2014—2019, Comedy Central)
One of the most refreshingly fun, unabashed and unashamed feminist comedies in television history, Ilana Glazer and Abbi Jacobson’s joyously bonkers series was never afraid to push buttons, cry itself to sleep, or piss off whiny man-children. Charting the adventures of Abbi and Ilana, two roommates who love to slack around, swipe for dudes, and smoking weed until they giggle themselves silly, “Broad City” was off the wall and over the top, drawing on the considerable energy and charisma of its creator/stars and making ingenious use of a stellar supporting cast (particularly comedian Hannibal Buress, who steals every scene with his trademark deadpan eccentricity). The series arguably peaked mid-run, with some commentary (like the Hillary Clinton episode) reading a bit on the nose/preaching to the crowd. Sadly, there still aren’t many open and honest, female-led shows with the fearlessness of “Broad City,” which remains the perfect late-night pick-me-up if you’re having a gloomy one. – AB
39. “Transparent” (2014—2019, Amazon Studios)
In spite of a slight dip in quality over the last two seasons (not to mention a musical finale that simply doesn’t work), “Transparent” remains one of the more singular viewing experiences in our television landscape: simply put, there’s never been anything quite like it. Offering viewers a probing look into both modern-day Judaism as well as the American trans experience, it pulls no punches, and isn’t afraid to go to some truly uncomfortable places. But “Transparent” is also one of the great shows about family: how they can drive you mad, and how you can’t escape them, no matter how hard you try. It’s also consistently one of the best-directed shows on T.V., with creator Jill Soloway, Andrea Arnold (“American Honey”), Shira Piven (“Welcome to Me”), and Marielle Heller (“A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood”) lending their striking visions to individual episodes. The show saw something of a shake-up in later seasons following the scandalous departure of series lead Jeffery Tambor, and the feature-length send-off, “Transparent: Musicale Finale,” ended things on an uncharacteristically shrill and unconvincing note. That said, we’re lucky to have grown alongside the Pfefferman clan, and to have experienced this show – warts and all. – NL
38. “Master of None” (2015—2017, Netflix)
Like “Louie,” “Master of None” was a funny-melancholic character piece about the quotidian routine of a stand-up comic living in the Big Apple. The show’s dramatic developments primarily orbited around awkward dates, cringe-worthy interactions with family, and a deeply sincere love of food. Unlike “Louie,” however – which, for all its brilliance, is also perverse and misanthropic – “Master of None” is sly, wise, and winsome. Aziz Ansari assumed the role of frequent series director, co-writer, and star, playing Dev: a bumbling 30-something searching for romantic connection and tasty eats in modern-day NYC The show formally announced Ansari’s graduation from his appealing, funny second banana work on the likes of “Parks and Recreation” to being a bonafide comedic leading man. “Master of None” was also peppered with rapturous flourishes of arthouse cinema technique, like an episode that’s explicitly indebted to Vittorio De Sica’s “The Bicycle Thieves,” and an uncomfortably long single take that lingers on a heartbroken Dev in the back of a taxi cab as the near-entirety of Soft Cell’s “Say Hello, Wave Goodbye” plays on the soundtrack. Standout chapters include the season one highlight “Parents,” which juxtaposes the casual privilege of Dev’s urban life with the tougher experiences of his immigrant parents, or “Thanksgiving,” which was partially brought to us by “Queen and Slim” duo Melina Matsoukas and Lena Waithe. Ansari’s brush with the #MeToo movement and this year’s semi-apologetic, Spike Jonze-directed standup special “Right Now” have turned the comic’s narrative in a somewhat uncertain direction, but for now, “Master of None’s” impeccable two seasons serve as the purest encapsulation of the Aziz ethos. – NL
37. “Chernobyl” (2019, HBO)
Audiences were inundated with an unhealthy amount of disaster films through the ’90s and ’00s, as directors like Roland Emmerich cemented their reputation by destroying cities via global warming, radioactive lizards, and alien invasions. Hollywood hasn’t always been sensitive when it comes to tackling real-life global tragedies, so it would be understandable to approach a miniseries based on the catastrophe at Chernobyl with a healthy degree of skepticism (particularly since that the guy responsible for writing “The Hangover” franchise was in control). Fortunately, HBO’s “Chernobyl” was a massive surprise on all accounts. There’s an exploitative version of this series to be made, sure, but creator Craig Mazin and director Johan Renck aren’t interested in cheap audience manipulation; Mazin’s sobering approach to the material, uninterested in sentiment or unearned redemptive beats, is refreshing. Aided by Renck’s subtle and assured hand behind the camera, meticulously detailed and expressive art direction and costume design, and a nearly non-existent but still dread-inducing score, the series is nothing short of a knockout – a searing, unflinching portrait of human error and the political corruption that sought to bury the truth. — MR
36. “Barry” (2018—Current, HBO)
It sounds like the ultimate high-concept elevator pitch: “a war veteran returns home to life as a contract killer, but secretly dreams of a career as an actor.” In the hands of a different creative team, this material could have been strained, zany, and thoughtlessly broad. In the hands of showrunner and star Bill Hader and his comedy vet co-conspirator Alec Berg, “Barry” is something else completely: often shockingly somber (grounding whatever flashes of comedy punctuate the otherwise bleak narrative), and a pitch-perfect evocation of the LA acting scene, full of strivers whose sense of get-up-and-go is vastly disproportionate to their talent on hand. It’s a prime showcase not just for Hader, who flexes nuanced dramatic chops in the title role, but for heavy hitters like Stephen Root, Henry Winkler, and Sarah Goldberg. Above all else, “Barry” is a reptile-brain masterpiece about the idea of playing a role, whether you’re reciting David Mamet’s “coffee is for closers” monologue from “Glengarry Glen Ross” to a room full of checked-out Angelino thespians, or violently squaring off with a suburban Tae Kwan Do master and his ferocious, unkillable daughter. “Barry” is one of Peak TV’s strangest magic tricks: a show that can make you laugh uncontrollably while your stomach lurches from anxiety. – NL
35. “Mildred Pierce” (2011, HBO)
Todd Haynes’s elegant, visually stunning adaptation of James M. Cain’s novel “Mildred Pierce” (previously, and famously, turned into a Joan Crawford vehicle in 1945) aired on HBO in 2011, as television was just beginning to raid movies for marquee directors. Haynes is nothing if not an experimental director, but his best efforts (“Carol,” “Far From Heaven”) deconstruct the rosy nostalgia of midcentury America through the fractured lens of Sirkian melodrama. This five-episode miniseries tells the story of one woman’s spiritual death and eventual rebirth, with Kate Winslet giving one of her most subtle and affecting turns as a woman struggling to get by in Depression-era America, who ends up striking out on her own by opening her own restaurant and breaking away from her loveless marriage. This is familiar material for Haynes, but “Mildred Pierce” is a quiet powerhouse with much to say about repression, ambition, and female identity, presented through the characteristically sensuous cinematography of Haynes’ regular cinematographer, the great Edward Lachman. – NL
34. “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” (2013—Current, Fox, NBC)
Prestige cop dramas like “The Shield” and “Hill Street Blues” are all but passé in today’s television landscape. “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” creators Dan Goor and Michael Schur, who cut their teeth on “Parks and Recreation,” must have cracked the riddle as to why exactly these shows don’t translate to our current pop cultural climate: they’re just not very funny. “Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” on the other hand, is extremely funny – losing-your-breath, gasping-for-air funny, boasting an ensemble of actors that any showrunner would kill for: Andy Samberg, all puppy dog charm and boundless energy as hot-headed jackass cop Jake Peralta; Andre Braugher’s scene-stealing, no-nonsense captain Raymond Holt; Joe Lo Truglio’s committed foodie; Terry Crews’ kind-hearted but physically intimidating Lieutenant; and Chelsea Peretti’s batty, self-absorbed, social media-fixated second banana. Razor-sharp and whip-smart, it’s one of the most imaginative single-camera situational comedies of its time. – NL
33. “Key & Peele” (2012—2015, Comedy Central)
The significance of the Comedy Central sketch series isn’t limited to bringing the title’s “Peele,” Jordan Peele, to Hollywood’s attention. Years before “Get Out” or “Us,” Peele and Keegan-Michael Key brought a breakout sketch comedy show led by two Black men to the nation’s TV screens that proliferated over youtube and a burgeoning social media. It tackled racism, homophobia and sexism through characters such as Luther, President Obama’s anger translator, the gay couple who seem like a very bad fit, the East/West Bowl sketches, or the incredulous substitute teacher who has issues adjusting from inner city students to a white suburban school. The Peabody winning series was at the forefront of a golden age for Comedy Central which included the somehow underrated “Inside Amy Schumer” and “The Nick Kroll Show” (let us never forget, “Bangs!”) that will influence comedy writers and creators for decades. – GE
32. “Looking” (2014—2016, HBO)
Too many LGBTQ narratives, past and present, are defined by the repression endured by their central characters, centered solely on the (very real) pain that these groups must face when confronted with the ignorance and oppression of the times they live in. While HBO’s “Looking” objectively dealt with some heavy material over the course of its two-season run (as well as the feature-length finale that followed), the show was often quietly radical in its willingness to depict gay men simply living their lives, in narratives that weren’t burdened by a cartoonish abundance of strife. “Looking” was always, at its core, about a group of friends: their love lives, their anxieties, their families, their nights out together, and their unshakeable bond. Jonathan Groff, playing shy video game designer Patrick, was impressive and subtle as the show’s lead, in ways that he isn’t always allowed to be on Netflix’s “Mindhunter.” Beautifully directed by a slew of indie auteurs – including Andrew Haigh (who directed ten of the show’s eighteen episodes, as well as “Looking: The Movie”), Ryan Fleck, and Joe Swanberg – “Looking” was sadly short-lived. But to spend any time at all with these characters was a joy. – NL
31. “Togetherness” (2015—2016, HBO)
Some of us still aren’t over the abrupt cancellation of Mark and Jay Duplass’ one-of-a-kind HBO gem. “Togetherness” was an aching, lovely distillation of the brother’s pet themes and obsessions (romantic ennui, codependency, stunted adulthood) that somehow managed to evolve into filmmakers’ richest and most mature work to date. Melanie Lynskey, Amanda Peet, Duplass regular Steve Zissis, and Mark Duplass himself were convincing and human as the quartet of stumbling, fucked-up sort-of adults at its center, and even when their actions were selfish or self-destructive, the show always felt like real life – which is why watching it was such a rewarding, funny, and painful experience. Every performance in its astonishing cast was a winner; Peet took a woman who might be insufferable in anyone else’s hands and managed to make her deeply sympathetic, Zissis proved once again that he’s a national treasure, and Lynskey, giving perhaps the show’s most nuanced performance, adroitly embodied a suffering woman in middle age who’s just starting to figure out what she wants. We hate the term “sadcoms” as much as anybody, but as far as aughts-era sadcoms go, “Togetherness” is the one to beat. – NL