The 10 Best TV Series of 2025

10. “Platonic” Season 2

For years, I fretted over getting my Top 10 lists “right.” There I was, every December, arguing with coworkers and arguing with myself while striving to pinpoint the objective rationales that would unlock the perfect sequence of the year’s best shows.

Criticism, of course, is as subjective as the art it’s assessing (because, I would argue, criticism is also art — when done correctly, hehe). But looking back on those first few years, I wasn’t wasting time. (My colleagues may disagree. Sorry, guys.) But interrogating your own opinions is as essential to personal growth as accepting the bias inherent to your individualism. Thinking less is rarely the right way to go when confronted with a task worth taking seriously, and these lists — even if only because they tend to be quite widely read — are worth at least that.

I know some critics hate making them. I love it. Even today, when I’ve already written many thousands of words about many dozens of shows and episodes, I didn’t punt on this blurb. I still see my Top 10 lists as a chance to celebrate series that deserve the extra attention; that fought to be the best story they could be; that unlocked something unique, moving, and powerful.

This list may not be “right” — meaning, if I redid the list in a month, the order would likely change and a few picks might get swapped in for a few outliers — but these are still the right shows. They’re true. They’re good. They’re valid.

Especially “Platonic.” Don’t take my long-winded rambling as justification for including a comedy about two best friends who hang out at a bar, take too many drugs, and generally use each other to avoid their greater responsibilities. Francesca Delbanco and Nicholas Stoller’s non-rom-com is one of the great modern sitcoms: trusting its two towering leads to carry the load, while infusing quiet profundity into their outlandish adventures. You should watch it. I’ve watched it more times than I care to admit. And I’ll probably watch some more as soon as I’m done with this next sentence. Because if these aren’t reasons enough to make this list “right,” then I’m finally happy to be wrong. —BT

9. “Wolf Hall: The Mirror and the Light”

A handsome and riveting sequel to the first season, “Wolf Hall: The Mirror and the Light” is a second season that extends its story to address urgent modern parallels without ever feeling like it’s doing anything more than telling audiences what happens next. Mark Rylance, in a sage, perceptive performance, returns as Thomas Cromwell, the right-hand to King Henry VIII (Damian Lewis) and chief architect of his plans to retain power by birthing a son, no matter how many wives it costs him. Emboldened after offing Anne Bolyn, Henry pushes the limits of his power again and again, relying on Cromwell to extend his reach as far as necessary — even when it ends up strangling the king’s loyal lapdog.

Battling a flurry of rumors and hatred directed specifically at him, Cromwell only fights harder to redeem himself — in his own eyes more so than the people’s. In doing so, he becomes a poignant, tragic figure; a dead man walking without the dignity of a blindfold, hoping against hope that he can calm his roiling conscience before facing God’s judgement. With beautiful costume design, elegant direction, and splendid performances, “The Mirror and the Light” continues “Wolf Hall’s” impressive legacy, established in the first season as well as Hilary Mantel’s novels. That it also speaks to our present struggles with vengeful tyrants, rampant elitism, and bended truths, well, that’s the power of history. Look back long enough, and you may just see the future. —BT

8. “Dying for Sex”

Kim Rosenstock and Liz Meriwether’s limited series about a dying woman trying to perfect her orgasm had no right to be as emotionally nuanced and hilarious as it was — but neither did the true-life exploits of Molly Kochan (played by Michelle Williams).

Adapted from the late Kochan’s podcast with best friend Nikki Boyer (played by Jenny Slate, with the real Boyer serving as an executive producer), it’s up there with the best shows that tackle sex, because it also tackles love; the withering bond between Molly and her husband (Jay Duplass), the stirrings of affection with her booty-call neighbor (Rob Delaney), and the fierce, beautiful, unconditional love between Molly and Nikki. With oustanding performances (Esco Jouléy! Sissy Spacek!), outrageous situations, and meticulous empathy for its subjects, it’s one of the most satisfying pieces of television this year (pun intended). —PK

7. “The Righteous Gemstones” Season 4

One of TV’s great ensembles hung up their robes this year, going out on a heavenly high yet still deserving a little more time on the altar of worship. Danny McBride’s HBO comedy featured its creator as Jesse Gemstone, the swaggering second-coming in his family’s mega-church, whose brash attitude often overwhelms his big heart; Edi Patterson as his sister, Judy, the perpetual middle-child whose scandalous, attention-seeking antics become so unhinged she could make even the Devil blush; her husband, BJ (Tim Waltz), is no match for her, and proving his mettle (without losing his sweet, simple soul) proves to be one of the series’ most rewarding journeys; Kelvin (Adam DeVine) is the youngest Gemstone, a dedicated yet headstrong youth pastor who saved his own partner, Keefe (Tony Cavalero), from a life spent worshipping Satan.

Towering over his semi-grown children is Eli (John Goodman), a widower still spiraling from the loss of his beloved wife. Unable to see the righteous path without his better half, Eli struggles to keep the kids on the straight and narrow, in part because he’s drifting on and off the holy road himself. None too helpful is the living embodiment of Eden’s snake, Uncle Baby Billy (Walton Goggins), a tanned and tarnished preacher-turned-showman who loves nothing more than biting off more than he can chew — yet remains as irrefutably loveable as the baby Jesus Himself.

This group with these traits performed by this cast provided four seasons of impeccable comedy. “The Righteous Gemstones” is bold and experimental, yet also familiar and comforting. The sitcom’s formula worked, over and over, but McBride (along with executive producers Jody Hill and David Gordon Green) wasn’t afraid to break it, reframe it, and push it somewhere new. The final season serves as a hopeful and honest testament to the series’ serious side: honoring those sinners who think they’re too lost to be found, and in doing so, opening the door for even darker, more devilish laughs. While their time at the pulpit may be over, I doubt anyone who heard their gospel will forget these Gemstones. —BT

6. “Common Side Effects”

The plot of “Common Side Effects” will sound pretty common itself, if not downright simplistic in comparison to the trash fire that is our real-life healthcare system. Marshall Cuso (Dave King), an altruistic mycologist, with an apparent allergy to buttons, finds a miracle mushroom that could cure almost all of humanity’s ills. But his wanting to give it away to everyone, for free, prompts the Powers That Be (the government, giant corporations, and other monied interests) to put a target on his back and a bounty on his head. Thus, Marshall — along with his adorable pet turtle Socrates — has to run for it, enlisting help from a former high school lab partner (Emily Pendergast) he doesn’t know now works for the Big Pharma CEO (Mike Judge) who’s endangering Marshall’s mushrooms in the first place. It’s classic thriller stuff. 

But co-creators Joseph Bennett and Steve Hely are up to so much more than that, and the world of “Common Side Effects” is so much weirder and funnier, more poignant and more human than the central paranoia of a good conspiracy. The art style blends a very ’90s, high school slacker animation with moments of jittery surrealism and a beautiful, cornucopian strangeness of which Hayao Miyazaki would surely approve. The combination makes the show simultaneously feel like something you’ve already devoured on a dorm room couch and like nothing you’ve ever seen. “Common Side Effects” bounces between the familiar and the unknown, between the absurd and the true, between its heightened premise and the realities of the mad world in which we actually live. The show’s refusal to be just one thing is what makes it — along with the questions it’s asking, and the characters (even shitty VR-obsessed boyfriends) it so clearly loves — feel human. If other shows could find the same joy and interest in human beings, it wouldn’t cure everything that’s going on, but it sure would be a start. —SS

5. “Pluribus”

Among a slew of great shows that reflect what it’s like to be alive in 2025, “Pluribus” stands out as the most freewheeling interpretation — and also the most resonant. Carol Sturka is angry. She’s afraid. She’s sad, too, and she experiences these emotions on a near-constant rotation. Carol has a good reason for so acutely and constantly feeling like this: The world as she knew it is over. An alien virus forged a telepathic connection between everyone on the planet, turning humanity into a single harmonious hivemind, and she’s one of a handful of individuals left out. Oh, and during “The Joining,” her wife died. So yeah, Carol is none too happy.

But… does she need to be? Everyone else seems thrilled about their new civilization. In a clever subversion of classic post-apocalyptic tropes, the joined want to help Carol. They want to save lives, fix what’s broken, and live in peace. They’re happy, and who’s Carol to tell them they shouldn’t be?

Well, that’s the question isn’t it: In an era when it often feels like half the population is living in blissful ignorance and the other half is screaming into the void, it’s easy to feel like an asshole whenever you’re responsible for popping someone else’s bubble. But sometimes bubbles need to be popped! And Carol firmly believes the end of humanity as we know it is one of those times!

At least, she starts off that way. “Pluribus” isn’t didactic; it’s approachable. It isn’t grim; it’s funny. It isn’t rigid in its approach to Carol’s way forward; it’s flexible, curious, and moving. Vince Gilligan’s first series post-“Better Call Saul” intends to shake things up; to push us out of our comfort zones, even if it’s just to remind us why we chose that particular zone to begin with. In that way, it’s not only reflective of how we live now, it’s essential for how we want to live going forward. —BT

4. “Andor” Season 2

I’ve been trying to get a friend to watch “Andor,” but keep running into a problem. When the “Rogue One” prequel series about the adventures that set up rebel intelligence operative Cassian Andor (Diego Luna) to steal the plans for the Death Star first premiered, there wasn’t a ton of hype about it — let alone the rapturous critical consensus contending the Disney+ series is the most compelling “Star Wars” project since the original trilogy. Now, there are a lot of us insufferable nerds ranting about creator Tony Gilroy and his team’s work transposing the mechanics of fascism and imperialism onto a galaxy far, far away. The expectations bar has soared to new heights. Going into something that brands itself as “Star Wars for grown-ups” could feel like homework. 

But my friend — and yours! — should watch “Andor” because it isn’t homework at all. In Season 2, traps are set and infiltrations are executed with a precision that would turn clockmakers green with envy. The show’s creative team continues to create gorgeous, lived-in, grounded environments and construct visual worldbuilding that elevates the story, rather than checks boxes for YouTube Easter Egg videos. Each member of the show’s ensemble gets a moment to give a startling performance, quite a feat given the state of play in “Rogue One” the show needs to build toward. And Gilroy and his team’s adaptation of “Star Wars” masterfully demonstrates how structures of power act on both individuals and communities in a way that feels timeless and contemporary, as good science-fiction should. —SS 

3. “The Lowdown”

Late in the first season of Sterlin Harjo’s “The Lowdown,” Ethan Hawke’s feisty “truthstorian” Lee Raybon walks into a church, pulls out a gun, and attempts to make a citizen’s arrest. The stupidity of his actions hits him almost immediately — the church is a white supremacist haven, and its congregation is armed to the teeth — but the scene doesn’t exist to embarrass Lee. It celebrates his convictions and his courage, even as it calls out his bullheaded selfishness. Sure, Lee’s on a righteous quest for the truth. But he’s also putting a lot of people’s lives at risk in the process — his own included.

“The Lowdown” functions in a similar fashion. It loves its lead character, the modern-day detective in a freelance reporter’s rags who knows everyone and fears nothing. But it also recognizes his blind spots and just how to magnify them, usually in hilarious, thrilling, deeply entertaining demonstrations like storming a church, gun loaded, with no plan whatsoever. Along Lee’s precarious path, a vivid ensemble of locals emerges, and it soon becomes clear the series cares just as much for their fates as it does for Lee’s. Maybe more. His case may demand answers, but he can’t forget who he’s answering to: a community, a family, and then himself. —BT

2. “The Rehearsal” Season 2

Attempting to summarize Nathan Fielder’s work is an exercise in futility. How could I, a mere peon, succinctly explain how “The Rehearsal” Season 2 is at once a meticulously choreographed reality show, an immensely moving human drama, and an outrageous high-wire comedy act that peaks either when it compares Paramount+ executives to Nazis or spoofs Clint Eastwood’s 2016 film, “Sully”? (Pick your favorite, they’re both incredible.) Relegating it to broad genres doesn’t really do the show justice. It’s much more incisive and elaborate than your typical “cringe comedy.” It’s much less desperate and needy than a “prank show,” not to mention miles more sincere. “The Rehearsal” is its own thing, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can appreciate the stunning skill, artistry, and effort on display in each half-hour episode.

In Season 1, Fielder started with a relatively simple idea: helping people prepare for important everyday events by giving them the opportunity to rehearse ahead of time. From there, his imagination ran wild while he tried to perfect the practice, and hoo boy, did things get nuts. In Season 2, Fielder is more focused. Concerned with airline safety, he lays out his thesis right off the bat: Poor communication between pilots causes too many accidents, and he believes his rehearsal method could help save lives.

Of course, “The Rehearsal” isn’t quite that simple, but having a steady, unchanging throughline to the season grounds the narrative while still allowing Fielder’s creativity to fly. Whether his onscreen persona is the real guy, a character, or a combination of the two is another aspect audiences have to decide for themselves, but no matter how you see him, “Nathan” takes you on a journey you truly can’t prepare for — unless you’re him, in which case, he already did. Just sit back, relax (as best you can), and enjoy the flight. —BT

1. “Long Story Short”

Time is precious, in part because it’s also fleeting. Yet in television, moments can last forever. Raphael Bob-Waksberg’s latest original series, “Long Story Short,” appreciates time’s variable, subjective extremes, as its tender tale bounces back and forth through the lives of the Schwoopers (an amalgamation of the parent’s surnames, Schwartz and Cooper). The blisteringly funny temporal travelogue follows its Jewish family across three decades, through childhood lodestars and adult crossroads, as it paints a colorful portrait of connections built, lost, and rediscovered. One kid’s forgotten memory will be a touchstone for their sibling, and the fluid narrative allows us to see how each perceived reality affects the individual, as well as their relationships, over years and years.

In lesser hands, “Long Story Short” would be a mess, but Bob-Waksberg lassos the power of accumulated experiences without sacrificing hearty laughs and honest character arcs. The series is still a sitcom, and its warm, welcoming ensemble and endearing, Crayola-esque animation immediately invite repeat viewings. After all, why do people endlessly rewatch “Friends” and “The Office” if not to savor a boundless stretch of pure joy? And why do those silly comedies carry such intimate significance for us if not for how long we’ve spent with them in our living rooms, season after season, year after year?

Time is one of television’s unique advantages as a medium, just as animation is an ideal medium for depicting temporal shifts without distracting makeup or CGI. “Long Story Short” represents the best of both. Here’s hoping it gets enough episodes for us to get lost in its artistry for decades to come. —BT

Honorable Mentions

• “The Chair Company”

• “Death by Lightning”

• “Forever”

• “The Last of Us” Season 2

• “Severance” Season 2