The 25 best TV shows of 2018

In the age of Peak TV, the num­ber of shows that get tout­ed as ​“must see” can be over­whelm­ing. A per­son would need a Hermione Granger style Time-Turn­er to watch every­thing on offer, par­tic­u­lar­ly in a year that has been very good for new, return­ing and final sea­sons of crit­i­cal­ly acclaimed series across broad­cast, cable and stream­ing services.

In terms of genre, the Top 25 fea­tured below includes a broad range of com­e­dy, dra­ma, sci-fi, hor­ror, real­i­ty and sev­er­al which defy cat­e­gori­sa­tion. Notable omis­sions, such as Bet­ter Call Saul, Bil­lions and Bojack Horse­man are all on the catch-up list for 2019. Also, if you release some­thing in Decem­ber, you’re prob­a­bly not going to make the cut (sor­ry, The Mar­velous Mrs Maisel and Mrs Wil­son).

Below you’ll find plen­ty of TV to binge watch over the fes­tive peri­od, but let us know what your favourites of this year have been @LWLies.

Net­flix may have can­celled their flag­ship Mar­vel series, but don’t take that as a sign of the most recent season’s qual­i­ty. Matt Mur­dock (Char­lie Cox) ditched the red cos­tume as a bid to shed his vig­i­lante alter-ego, but the return of sea­son one vil­lain Wil­son Fisk (Vin­cent D’Onofrio) is what real­ly set this sea­son alight. Plus, an auda­cious 11-minute sin­gle-take fight sequence in episode four is a won­der to behold. And while the finale set Dare­dev­il up for more, it also brought the series to a fit­ting end.

The dis­course before Jodie Whit­tak­er had even put on her yel­low braces as the 13^th Doc­tor was mad­den­ing. There was also grum­bling from some view­ers about ​“issue” episode focus­ing on Rosa Parks, the par­ti­tion of India and witch hunts. But Doc­tor Who has always thrived when show­cas­ing his­tor­i­cal events. Not only is Whit­tak­er fan­tas­tic as the Doc­tor, but her three com­pan­ions have also breathed new life into the icon­ic series.

TV view­ing habits con­tin­ue to shift thanks to catch-up options and stream­ing plat­forms releas­ing entire series in one go. The com­mu­nal expe­ri­ence of sit­ting down to the same episode isn’t as com­mon as it used to be, but for five weeks this autumn, BBC1 dra­ma Body­guard became appoint­ment view­ing. An action-packed series, which includ­ed stel­lar per­for­mances from Richard Mad­den and Kee­ley Hawes, led to plen­ty of the­o­ris­ing about what would hap­pen next. It didn’t quite stick the land­ing, but from that mes­meris­ing open­ing sequence, a nation was gripped.

The influx of Scan­di­na­vian dra­mas has slowed down in the years since The Killing first graced BBC4 in 2011. Saga Norén’s (Sofia Helin) final case on The Bridge was one of the most chal­leng­ing yet, with seem­ing­ly uncon­nect­ed vic­tims, creepy clowns and a series of cryp­tic clues. In the pan­theon of TV sleuths, Norén goes down as one that is hard to define; she is both enig­mat­ic and straight to the point. Thank­ful­ly the final sea­son didn’t try to solve her, instead, sav­ing that tac­tic for the puz­zling mur­der mystery.

Mike Flanagan’s loose adap­ta­tion of Shirley Jackson’s icon­ic 1959 hor­ror nov­el – which has already been the sub­ject of movies in 1963 and 1999 – bal­ances scares with fam­i­ly dys­func­tion. Set over two time peri­ods, ghosts linger in both the dark cor­ners of Hill House and in the recess­es of the mind, deliv­er­ing plen­ty of oppor­tu­ni­ties to shriek and sob. A vari­ety of clas­sic hor­ror tech­niques are employed from blink-and-you’ll-miss-it appari­tions to jump scares, but it’s episode six that stands out. Using a series of one-shot takes (the longest is 17 min­utes) it feels like you’re watch­ing an inti­mate play set in a funer­al home.

Some­how The Handmaid’s Tale man­aged to take the grim events of its stand­out first sea­son and dou­ble down on the hor­rors June Osborne/​Offred (Elis­a­beth Moss) and the oth­er hand­maids must endure in order to sur­vive Gilead. At times this show can be incred­i­bly dif­fi­cult to watch, par­tic­u­lar­ly when cer­tain moments mir­ror real­i­ty rather than a dystopi­an fic­tion­al world. But the per­for­mances, pro­duc­tion design and cos­tumes make it hard to turn away.

One of 2018’s fun­ni­est shows gives view­ers a shot of ​’90s nos­tal­gia against a polit­i­cal­ly charged back­ground. The Trou­bles might not be an obvi­ous source of com­e­dy, but Der­ry Girls man­ages to show­case the mun­dane and frus­trat­ing aspects of liv­ing in a tense and poten­tial­ly dan­ger­ous envi­ron­ment. Four teenage girls have oth­er con­cerns and what makes Der­ry Girls such a treat is the bal­ance of real-world dra­ma against issues that arise dur­ing ado­les­cence. Throw in an Eng­lish boy who has to attend the all-girls school and you are in for a treat.

Emma Stone and Jon­ah Hill reunite for the first time since Super­bad in this mind-bend­ing Net­flix mini-series with new James Bond direc­tor Cary Joji Fuku­na­ga at the helm. Adapt­ed from the Nor­we­gian series of the same name, Mani­ac explores grief and men­tal health through a vari­ety of dream­scapes. One episode riffs on Lord of the Rings – com­plete with Emma Stone in a Lego­las-like wig – while anoth­er is Dr Strangelove adja­cent. Mani­ac swerves between the absurd and the trag­ic while show­cas­ing Fukunaga’s eye for action in a culottes-wear­ing kick­ass sequence.

Some­how The Good Place keeps rein­vent­ing itself, some­times on a week­ly basis, pack­ing in plen­ty of sur­prise twists and turns even after the mind-blow­ing sea­son one finale in 2o17. If 2018 is the Bad Place, then this sit­com is the injec­tion of philo­soph­i­cal friend­ship based hope we need. Turns out ques­tions about what it means to be a good per­son and whether peo­ple have the capac­i­ty to change is also the foun­da­tion of a very fun­ny sit­com. A strong ensem­ble cast makes this a dream study group. If only real phi­los­o­phy class­es were like this.

The first sea­son of Net­flix mock­u­men­tary Amer­i­can Van­dal asked, ​“who drew the dicks?” Sea­son two upped the inves­tiga­tive stakes in its quest to unmask the Turd Bur­glar, and if you haven’t seen Amer­i­can Van­dal, you might won­der what it is doing on a ​‘Best Of’ list. Dicks and turds don’t sound like the obvi­ous place to explore the nar­ra­tive of true crime doc­u­men­taries and pod­casts, but this sad­ly-now-can­celled series does just this. Not only this, but its depic­tion of social media and the teen expe­ri­ence is nuanced, hilar­i­ous and insightful.

When the Fab Five burst onto the scene in Feb­ru­ary it was like a breath of fresh con­fi­dence induc­ing air. Netflix’s updat­ed ver­sion of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy is the TV show equiv­a­lent of a warm blan­ket, some­thing this year has been cry­ing out for. A makeover show that leaves the snark and pes­simism at the door; every episode will leave you want­i­ng to sort out your house, fix your wardrobe, make some gua­camole, get a hair­cut to show off your face and hug those near­est to you. Or at the very least it will remind you there is some good in the world.

Casu­al has always been under the radar despite the indie film­mak­ing pedi­gree behind the cam­era, includ­ing Lynn Shel­ton, Gillian Robe­spierre and Jason Reit­man. A dys­func­tion­al fam­i­ly in Los Ange­les may sound ​‘been there, done that’, but this explo­ration of dat­ing, rela­tion­ships between sib­lings, and the way tech­nol­o­gy enhances and detracts from our lives is hilar­i­ous and touch­ing. Stand­out per­for­mances from Michaela Watkins, Tom­my Dewey and Tara Lynne Barr will have you clam­our­ing for more when you realise it is over. Plus, in the year of Bohemi­an Rhap­sody, Casu­al fea­tures the best use of a Queen track in 2018.

Jane the Vir­gin strad­dles the line between over-the-top and ground­ed in real­i­ty, often tak­ing nar­ra­tive cues from the telen­ov­ela that inspired it – includ­ing that scream-wor­thy sea­son finale twist. Immi­gra­tion issues, a breast can­cer sto­ry­line, explor­ing sex­u­al­i­ty and com­plex rela­tion­ship dynam­ics all fea­ture along­side a dose of mag­i­cal real­ism. Strug­gles with Jane’s writ­ing career are not sug­ar-coat­ed, but there isn’t a cyn­i­cal bone in this show. Star Gina Rodriguez took on a new role this year when she direct­ed an episode, show­ing she is just as adept behind the cam­era as in front.

Puber­ty is an expe­ri­ence most peo­ple would not want to go through again, how­ev­er, Big Mouth def­i­nite­ly makes this peri­od of your life worth revis­it­ing. Equal parts vul­gar and pro­found, this ani­ma­tion from Nick Kroll, Andrew Gold­berg, Mark Levin and Jen­nifer Flack­ett explores ado­les­cent humil­i­a­tion, depres­sion, rage and sex­u­al­i­ty across gen­der lines. Join­ing the line-up in the sec­ond sea­son is David Thewlis as the Shame Wiz­ard, here to tor­ment and speak to the larg­er points Big Mouth is mak­ing. Maya Rudolph’s voice work as one of the Hor­mone Mon­sters is once again a stand­out includ­ing her incred­i­ble body con­fi­dence anthem.

The Deuce jumps for­ward to 1977 in sea­son two, which finds Eileen ​“Can­dy” Mer­rell (Mag­gie Gyl­len­haal) behind the cam­era as she attempts to por­tray female plea­sure in porn. Resis­tance is strong to her way of think­ing, as are the oth­er changes threat­en­ing those mak­ing mon­ey. From the eupho­ria of groov­ing to Bar­ry White while wear­ing fur and a bare­ly-there jump­suit to the sac­ri­fices made to secure more fund­ing, The Deuce gets down and dirty, while show­ing the highs and lows of this indus­try. And in a behind-the-scenes change mak­ing a broad­er impact, after The Deuce hired an inti­ma­cy coor­di­na­tor for its sec­ond sea­son, all HBO shows fea­tur­ing sex scenes will have this kind of on-set advocate.

Female-dri­ven rage is a big trend of 2018 with count­less arti­cles refer­ring to #MeToo sto­ry­lines, even if they were con­ceived before the big Wein­stein bomb­shell came out. This was the case with sea­son two of GLOW, which fea­tures an exec­u­tive wield­ing his pow­er after sex­u­al advances are turned down. What sad­ly reads as time­ly, is just a coin­ci­dence under­scor­ing the dark under­bel­ly of this indus­try. Numer­ous obsta­cles stand in the way of the Gor­geous Ladies of Wrestling, but that doesn’t stop them try­ing. Their wrestling prowess improves, the cos­tumes and hair are more out­ra­geous, bonds deep­en and a desire for more dri­ves the story.

Polit­i­cal news moves at such a fast pace, as one out­ra­geous turn replaces anoth­er. The life cycle of a scan­dal is bare­ly 24-hours, it often feels like we are liv­ing a ver­sion of Net­work. Sev­er­al TV shows have tak­en on this cur­rent US admin­is­tra­tion as a source for inspi­ra­tion, but none have been quite as suc­cess­ful as The Good Wife spin­off, The Good Fight, which analy­ses the Trump era with nuance, while also lean­ing into the absur­di­ty of it all. One of the most mem­o­rable moments of the sec­ond sea­son involves the infa­mous pee tape, which gives off a sim­i­lar glow as the brief­case in Pulp Fic­tion when any­one watch­es it.

Ter­ri­ble rich peo­ple doing ter­ri­ble things in order to pro­tect their media dynasty doesn’t sound all that appeal­ing, but in the hands of In the Loop and The Thick of It writer Jesse Arm­strong, it hap­pens to be one of the most watch­able and quick-wit­ted shows of the year. Part fam­i­ly tragedy with Bri­an Cox as a King Lear-like fig­ure, part black com­e­dy as Kier­an Culkin, Matthew Mac­fadyen and Nicholas Braun duke it out for the title of biggest Fool. It takes a cou­ple of episodes to find its bal­ance, but when it does kick into gear it soars. Fam­i­ly ther­a­py has nev­er felt quite this fun.

Direc­tor Jean-Marc Vallée’s adap­ta­tion of Big Lit­tle Lies was a huge crit­i­cal hit last year. He has done it again with his take on Gillian Flynn’s nov­el ​‘Sharp Objects’, which sees a reporter return home to inves­ti­gate the dis­ap­pear­ance and sub­se­quent mur­ders of two young girls. Amy Adams is after the scoop as Camille Preak­er, but as Val­lée weaves past and present togeth­er, it is clear that all in this sweaty town is not what it seems. A Led Zep­pelin-infused sound­track, Adams on the edge of obliv­ion and a ter­rif­ic sup­port­ing cast make this much more than just anoth­er whodunit.

Killers for hire are on-trend in 2018, Bill Hader’s turn as the tit­u­lar Bar­ry look­ing for mean­ing in his life, via act­ing class­es, is a blend of trag­ic and com­ic. Shake­speare was an expert at wield­ing both gen­res, so it is rather poet­ic that Barry’s recital of a scene from Mac­beth is one of the stand­out moments in a sea­son full of them. The Fonz him­self, Hen­ry Win­kler steals pret­ty much every scene he is in as an act­ing teacher who can’t score a job him­self. Alec Berg and Bill Hader’s writ­ing swings between heart­break­ing and seri­ous to far­ci­cal and hys­ter­i­cal­ly fun­ny, but it is always ground­ed in emotion.

A late entry, but Sam Esmail’s (Mr Robot) thriller about a cor­po­rate-run pro­gram, which is sup­pos­ed­ly help­ing return­ing sol­diers from war, instant­ly war­rants it inclu­sion here. Esmail employs some strik­ing visu­al flour­ish­es, includ­ing dif­fer­ent aspect ratios to denote time and nods to Alfred Hitch­cock, The Con­ver­sa­tion and Zodi­ac. Julia Roberts uses her sig­na­ture smile in a way that is both dis­arm­ing and dev­as­tat­ing. It is moments like this when you realise why she is a Movie Star, but TV is also the per­fect home for her tal­ent. The sup­port­ing cast is noth­ing to be sniffed at either, includ­ing Stephan James, Bob­by Can­navale, Shea Whigh­am and Sis­sy Spacek.

For its sec­ond sea­son, Amer­i­can Crime Sto­ry fol­lowed the biggest tri­al of the ​’90s in Amer­i­ca with a man­hunt that sprawled across state lines and led to the mur­der of an icon­ic fash­ion design­er. But unlike The Peo­ple v OJ Simp­son, this sto­ry was far less inter­est­ed in the famous name fea­tured in the title and more with the assas­sin. Dar­ren Criss gives an excel­lent per­for­mance as the socio­path­ic spree killer Andrew Cunanan, who is at times both mes­meris­ing and repel­lent. The focus on his non-famous vic­tims – includ­ing a break­out per­for­mance by Cody Fern – and the depic­tion of entrenched homo­pho­bia, which ham­pered the inves­ti­ga­tion, makes this a vital watch.

There are a num­ber of entries on this list that blur the genre lines, but none more than the sec­ond sea­son of Atlanta. ​‘Rob­bin’ Sea­son’ plays like a short sto­ry anthol­o­gy, explor­ing rela­tion­ships, love, work, fame, mon­ey, and race. One episode goes back to when Earn (Don­ald Glover) was in mid­dle school, anoth­er fol­lows Paper Boi (Bri­an Tyree Hen­ry) on a nor­mal day, which descends into a night­mare. And there’s a rea­son why every­one is still talk­ing about ​‘Ted­dy Perkins’, as it plays like a con­tem­po­rary Twi­light Zone. A mul­ti-hyphen­ate who appears he can do it all, this has been anoth­er very good year for Don­ald Glover and fans of his work.

No one appears to have had more fun on screen this year than Jodie Com­er as inter­na­tion­al assas­sin Vil­lanelle, in Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s adap­ta­tion of Killing Eve. Vil­lanelle loves her work and is very good at it, mean­while, Eve (the incred­i­ble San­dra Oh) is bored with her job until she starts inves­ti­gat­ing the high pro­file mur­ders pop­ping up around Europe. As flam­boy­ant as Villanelle’s pink Mol­ly God­dard dress, Killing Eve is a ridicu­lous­ly enter­tain­ing game of cat-and-mouse.

Every­one knows how the Cold War ends, but The Amer­i­cans has always been a mar­riage sto­ry wrapped in an espi­onage bow. Decades fight­ing has left an indeli­ble mark on these deep-cov­er KGB spies. Keri Rus­sell and Matthew Rhys both deliv­er breath­tak­ing per­for­mances as Eliz­a­beth and Philip Jen­nings, often say­ing so much whilst bare­ly utter­ing a word; a gut-punch of a gasp, a soul-crush­ing look. A final out­ing packed full of sur­pris­es, which also stayed true to every­thing loy­al view­ers had watched up to this point. Flashy car chas­es and Alamo-style shootouts were nev­er going to be how showrun­ners Joe Weis­berg and Joel Fields wrapped things up. Instead, offer­ing up a mas­ter­class in how to craft a sat­is­fy­ing con­clu­sion of a crit­i­cal darling.