TV Technica 2019: These were our favorite shows and binges this year

[Karlston]

TV Technica 2019: These were our favorite shows and binges this year

From sitcoms and sci-fi to prestige drama, it was a banner year for peak TV.

Enlarge / #BestDramaticStaresOf2019

NBC Universal / HBO / Netflix / Disney

Warning: This story discusses a handful of specific moments from TV in 2019. There are major spoilers for the final season of Game of Thrones. Although we’ve otherwise done our best to avoid spoiling anything too major, please note this list includes specific references to The Mandalorian, The Good Place, The Orville, Barry, Fleabag, Counterpart, Mindhunter, The Santa Clarita Diet, Daybreak, and Russian Doll, among others.

 

Is it possible to out-peak peak TV? If so, 2019 might just have attained that goal. This year saw the launch of two new streaming platforms into an already crowded market: Apple TV+ and Disney+, along with so much original programming that it was easy for promising fledgling shows to simply get lost in the firehose of fresh content. There's bound to be some shakeups and consolidation in the years ahead, because the current explosive rate of growth is likely unsustainable. But for now, let's revel in the glorious smorgasbord of quality shows—offered below in no particular order—that captured our heads and hearts this year.

Enlarge / Anson Mount plays the tough but fair Captain Pike on Star Trek: Discovery.

CBS/All access

Stellar cast shines on Star Trek: Discovery

Star Trek: Discovery's second season isn't perfect. The heavy amount of retconning around the original Star Trek series feels contrived at times, and certain romantic pairings the show tries desperately to sell have all the chemistry of a pile of wet sand.

 

But when Discovery shines, it's like a supernova against the night sky—and much of that light comes from the stellar cast. Michelle Yeoh's scene-chewing as Georgiou is a pure delight to watch; Doug Jones defies who-knows-how-many layers of makeup and prosthetics to make us feel every one of Saru's deep emotions; and Mary Wiseman continues to radiate infectious joy and enthusiasm as Tilly grows and matures as a character and a leader.

 

The unexpected heart of season two, though, came not from the core cast but from a surprising quarter: Captain Christopher Pike (Anson Mount). Before, Pike was best known for using a space-age wheel-free wheelchair and beeping yes or no. Discovery does not change his ultimate fate but, instead, takes an appropriately science fictiony device and fleshes Pike out enormously, ultimately making him a hero who chooses repeatedly—at enormous personal cost and with full understanding of the weight of those costs—to do the right thing.

 

Pike's arc is a standout example of Star Trek's most consistent and loftiest goal: setting the tone from the captain's chair, having the leader live up to Starfleet's highest ideals even when doing so feels impossibly hard, and trusting the rest of the crew to rise to the occasion.

 

—Kate Cox, Tech Policy Reporter

Enlarge / The Soul Squad is back for a final season on The Good Place

NBC Universal

Entering the endgame on The Good Place

The Good Place has always kept us guessing, from the pilot episode in which Eleanor (Kristen Bell) realizes she's been admitted to paradise by mistake, to the heartbreaking S3 finale setting up this fourth and final season. Much of S3 took place back on Earth, where the Soul Squad—Eleanor, Chidi (William Jackson Harper), Tahani (Jameela Jamil), and Jason (Manny Jacinto)—had been given one more chance to become better people on Earth.

 

It was a bold move by the writers, although the first few episodes were a bit lackluster. Earth just isn't as interesting as the crazy surreal illogic of the show's brilliant conception of the afterlife. But S3 soon hit its stride. In the finale, reformed demon Michael (Ted Danson) convinced Judge Gen (Maya Rudolph) to repeat the original experiment of S1 with four new humans, chosen by the Bad Place. The Soul Squad would be on hand to assist. But there's always a catch when the Bad Place gets involved, and this one was particularly heartbreaking for fans of the Eleanor-Chidi soulmate coupling. Chidi was rebooted along with everything else, which removed his memories of Eleanor.

 

S4 brought everyone back to the afterlife, with all the cheesy puns and comic absurdity that comes with that goofy eternal realm. (A game of Pictionary in which the images come to life ends in chaos, thanks to a terrifying mutation produced by Chidi's crude drawing of a horse.) Eleanor is now running the Good Place, with four new test subjects: John (Brandon Scott Jones), a former gossip columnist who wrote nasty things about Tahani back on Earth; uber-douche male chauvinist Brent (Benjamin Koldyke); Chidi's Australian neuroscientist love interest from S3, Simone (Kirby Howell-Baptiste); and Chidi himself (a replacement for Linda, who turned out to be a demon in disguise). There are twists and double crosses and daring rescues, ending with Judge Gen concluding in the midseason finale that, yes, the afterlife's point system is flawed. But her solution is to wipe out all humans from existence in a reset to start over—not the outcome the Soul Squad was hoping for.

 

The writing is still so fresh and the philosophical rumination still so sharp and witty, one might be tempted to keep the show going as long as possible. But I think it's a wise move to wrap things up after four solid-gold seasons. Will Judge Gen relent on her decision to reset the human experiment and give the Soul Squad a chance to redesign the afterlife? Will there be a happily ever after for Eleanor and Chidi? Will Jason's beloved Jacksonville Jaguars ever win a championship without Blake Bortles? It's anyone's guess how things will end for this always surprising and thought-provoking series.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette, Senior Writer

Enlarge / Pedro Pascal plays the titular character in the Disney+ exclusive series The Mandalorian.

Lucasfilm

The Mandalorian kept us guessing

While I managed to leave the biggest spoiler out of The Mandalorian series-premiere review, it didn't take long for the Internet at large to lose its collective minds about the Star Wars universe's most mysterious character yet. What's going on with "The Child," anyway? Yoda clone? The result of Qui-Gon Jinn's weirdest one-night stand? The beginning of a crossover event with the Gremlins universe?

 

As of press time, we're still curious, but the more important thing is that The Mandalorian hasn't dropped the ball of giving us fun action and interesting character development along the way. Creator Jon Favreau's brainchild has proven to be a killer vehicle for the most Star Trek-like storytelling yet in a live-action Star Wars product. Even better, its freak-of-the-week and brand-new-planet progression has been paired with a proper samurai story, as anchored by the religious, fervent, and conflicted Mando himself.

 

But most crucially, the stoic Mando (Pedro Pascal) has had an incredible supporting cast to bounce off of, and well he should, since he's often the silent, staredown type to the likes of Nick Nolte, Bill Burr, and Werner freaking Herzog. Every supporting actor has the added benefit of being vulnerable and even disposable along the way. That gives the series real stakes on an episode-by-episode basis, since we have no idea who's sticking around and who's getting taken out. Every episode may as well end with a dramatic 1950s TV announcer shouting "Tune in next week to find out!" Because this year, we sure have.

 

—Sam Machkovech, Tech Culture Editor

Enlarge / The titular "Fleabag" (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) falls for a priest in season two of Fleabag.

BBC

A hot priest steals the show in Fleabag S2

I'm not sure there's ever been a series quite like Fleabag, a British comedy-drama written by and starring Phoebe Waller-Bridge (of Killing Eve fame). It's based on her award-winning 2013 one-woman show, about a single young woman in London attempting to navigate her disastrous love life, dysfunctional family, failing business, and the suicide of her best friend, Boo (Jenny Rainsford in the series). If that doesn't exactly sound like comic fodder—well, it all becomes tragicomic in the hands of Waller-Bridge.

 

The titular Fleabag (Waller-Bridge) is never named, and neither are most of her various love interests ("arsehole guy," "bus rodent," "hot misogynist," and the like). She's also the unreliable narrator, frequently breaking the fourth wall to let the audience in on her innermost thoughts. She's not exactly a nice person: flippant, self-absorbed, petty, and vindictive toward her godmother (and future stepmother), played to perfection by Oscar-winner Olivia Coleman. In S1, her boyfriend Harry (Hugh Skinner) dumps her when he catches her masturbating to video footage of Barack Obama. But that behavior masks her deeper depression and grief, and by the end of the first season, we learn the devastating truth about Boo's demise.

 

S2 opens with a family reunion of sorts: Fleabag attends her father's engagement party to Godmother, where her sister Claire (Sian Clifford) suffers a miscarriage and refuses to admit it. That's also when Fleabag meets "the priest" (Andrew Scott, aka Moriarty in BBC's Sherlock), who will be officiating her father's wedding. The priest is clearly a kindred spirit to Fleabag, and the chemistry between them is palpable. He's also the only character who can sense her fourth-wall-breaking commentary. He truly sees her, warts and all, and loves her anyway—a terrifying thing for someone with as many issues as Fleabag.

 

Scott is not an obvious heartthrob, but his performance as "the hot priest" caused an epidemic of swoon among a certain female demographic. The heartbreaking finale, in which the two profess their love even as the priest chooses his faith over her, is devastating, yet weirdly hopeful. Fleabag has grown over two seasons, and we're left feeling as if she might find some inner peace and stability after all. There are no plans for another season, which could be a good thing. Why mess with outright perfection?

 

—Jennifer Ouellette, Senior Writer

 

 

The coda of PEN15’s masturbation episode

If poignant absurdist humor is your jam, allow a quick recommendation for the entirety of PEN15, the Hulu original about middle school life starring creators Maya Erskine and Anna Konkle. (They play middle school versions of themselves even though they're late twenty-/early thirtysomethings and the rest of the cast is all age appropriate. It works, trust us.)

 

One storyline in particular will perhaps resonate with anyone who hit their teens in the early-to-mid '90s. The third episode, "Ojichan," is an honest (humorous, awkward) portrayal of kids discovering their bodies, as Maya first stumbles into masturbation but is haunted on any and all repeated attempts by the ghost of her Ojichan ("grandfather" in Japanese) disapprovingly staring. Maya goes through all kinds of coping stages—lying about what she’s doing to others, feeling shame and grief, not giving a damn and pressing onward—as everything around her subconsciously conveys the message that what she’s doing is in some way "wrong."

 

At the end of the episode, in a delightfully brief sequence that's both hilarious and heartbreaking, PEN15 reminds us that that portrayal is totally intentional. Ojichan makes one final ghostly appearance, but this time he's hovering over Maya's older brother, Shuji. The teen boy is alone in his room, in the dark, unmonitored, on the Internet... you see where this is going. But Ojichan isn't here to disapprovingly stare. Instead he cracks a wry smile. It's OK for a teen boy, after all. 🤦‍♀️

—Nathan Mattise, Features Editor

Stranger Things grows up in S3

Evidently, even an old (and deeply familiar) fiction formula can learn new tricks. Stranger Things' Invasion of the Body Snatchers' approach to its latest season introduced more sinister horror than in years past. Its aging stars navigated puberty with both laughs (say, Eleven using her powers to spy on the boys or shut out Hopper of her bedroom) and honesty (like Will’s best moment to date: confronting his pals as they choose crushes over cardboard). And somehow the writing staff took its surprising darlings—Dustin and Steve forever—and found a way to improve them with the adventures of the Scoop Troop.

 

Stranger Things 3 grew up and grew out in ways that were both logical and unexpected for these kids and this world, leaving the show's upcoming fourth season to grapple with more questions than ever before. What are the Russians up to? Is Dr. Brenner still kicking? And what's to come for Hopper and the Byers family? As Netflix's first wave of originals winds down—House of Cards and Orange is the New Black this year, BoJack Horseman in January—Stranger Things has shown it is more than capable of carrying the torch upward and onward. And if we’re living in an era where a good idea must be a world and not just a series, at least the first bits of this expanded universe left us willing to sample more, too.

 

—Nathan Mattise

 

 

Medieval zombie hunter training in Santa Clarita Diet

I'm still mourning the untimely cancellation of The Santa Clarita Diet after just three seasons. This under-appreciated series was a winning blend of satire, snappy dialogue, slapstick, and of course, plenty of zombie-munching gore. The series centered on Joel and Sheila Hammond (Tim Olyphant and Drew Barrymore), married real estate agents in Santa Clarita who found their lives irrevocably altered after Sheila had an extreme upchucking incident while showing a house to prospective clients. She thought it was a bad case of food poisoning but soon began to crave human flesh. The upside: she felt better than she had in years, and her increased libido kickstarted the Hammonds' previously humdrum sex life into overdrive.

 

In the third (and sadly, final) season, the Hammonds struggle to remain incognito as more people learn about Sheila's condition. The super-religious sheriff's deputy Anne (Natalie Morales) thinks Sheila has been raised from the dead by God and can't help sharing the good news with various church members. A disturbed mental patient named Ron (Jonathan Slavin) becomes obsessed with Sheila, begging her to bite him so he can be a zombie, too. And, an organization dating back to the Middle Ages called the Knights of Serbia has come to Santa Clarita, intent on wiping out any zombies they might find.

 

Joel decides to join their ranks to protect Sheila. The hilarious montage where he makes a training video with the help of teenaged next-door neighbor Eric (Skyler Gisondo), recreating bizarre medieval feats to prove his worthiness, was the comic highlight of the season. Olyphant demonstrates a real gift for physical comedy as he gamely engages in knife-throwing (aka "tumbling man throws sharp object"); a two-man fighting technique dubbed "the beast with two fronts"; and sticking a pear into a raw chicken "with level hand and speed of a gnat."

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

 

 

Peak weirdness on Los Espookys

We mean this in the most endearing way possible: nothing on TV in 2019 is quite as weird as Los Espookys. HBO’s new Spanish-language, offbeat comedy about a group of friends who fall backwards into starting a production company focused creating on horror experiences is as absurdist as its premise sounds.

 

There’s the straightforward Renaldo, a perfect encapsulation of the horror-enthusiast-verging-on-goth acquaintance you may have had in high school (right down to his choice of military-style boots and fishnet tops). His best friend Andrés is the wealthy heir to a chocolate fortune who also may be some kind of once-orphaned-and-cursed soul. Sisters Úrsula, a no-nonsense get-shit-done makeup wizard, and Tati, a willing participant in everything, round out the group. Through six tight episodes, they create parallel universes for US diplomats, help giveaway a robust inheritance via haunted mansion, and pose as aliens for an extraterrestrial researcher that needs her grant to continue.

 

Writers Julio Torres (SNL, and Andrés), Ana Fabrega (Chris Gethard Show, and Tati), and Fred Armisen (Portlandia, and Uncle Tico) have created something impeccable. It can at times evoke the naivety and obsession of Community, the awkwardness of Nathan For You, or the core group rapport of Broad City. Los Espookys consistently proved to be silly yet smart, as the show told a lot of hard truths about being a young creative trying to make it in the world, while it simultaneous had gags about excessive lip balm. And the production’s overall style is impeccable. Its unnamed Latin American country possesses the perfect amount of dreamy surrealness, and its synth-y soundtrack gives the whole thing a Modern Art Museum vibe.

 

From The Gary Shandling Show to Curb Your Enthusiasm to Veep, HBO has a rich history of comedies that run counter to contemporary sitcom peers on other networks. And as network flagbearers like Veep and Silicon Valley wound down, Los Espookys demonstrated the future of comedy at HBO is going to be bright and different.

 

—Nathan Mattise

Enlarge / Arya saves the day at the Battle of Winterfell in Game of Thrones' "The Long Night"

HBO

Arya slays the Night King on Game of Thrones

Yeah, yeah, we know the final season of Game of Thrones was deeply flawed and frustrating for fans, especially the hugely controversial heel turn for fan favorite Daenerys Targaryen (Emilia Clarke) in the penultimate episode. As a narrative twist, it was conceptually brilliant, but imperfectly executed.  As I noted in my review, "The entire final season felt over-rushed, covering [George R.R.] Martin's outline for the ending, with all the big set pieces and narrative turns in place, but with none of that essential fleshing out that has made this such a richly satisfying series overall."

 

There was still much to love in this final season, however, most notably the pivotal Battle of Winterfell (in the Emmy-nominated "The Long Night"), which actually exceeded my high expectations (complaints about the lighting—apparently the result of HBO's compression—aside). Granted, several military experts criticized Jon and Dany's military strategy, especially the decision to send the Dothraki into the open to meet the army of White Walkers' vast army of wights. (As Ars' Sean Gallagher noted, "How do you say, 'where's the air support' in Dothraki?") But Jon has never been a shrewd general—it was Sansa who saved the day in the Battle of the Bastards—and tragically bad decisions are pretty much quintessential Game of Thrones.

 

Directed by Miguel Sapochnik —who also helmed the battle-centric episodes "Hardhome" and "Battle of the Bastards —this was the longest episode of the series. It was 82 minutes of impeccably choreographed, non-stop action, with just enough quieter moments to give viewers an occasional break from gripping the edge of their seats. Humanity was always the underdog in this inevitable confrontation. We bid farewell to Melisandre, Dolorous Edd, Theon Greyjoy, Jorah Mormont, and Beric, among others. With her last breath, little Lyanna Mormont plunges dragon glass into the eye of the undead giant who's crushing her to death—badass to the end. R.I.P. the Lady of Bear Island, last of the House of Mormont.

 

Just when things seem most dire, the centerpiece of that very bad battle plan actually works. Arya sneaks up on the Night King with a Valyrian steel dagger as he's about to kill Bran. The Night King stops her hand and grips her throat. And Arya deftly lets the blade fall into her other, free hand to drive the dagger into the Night King. See? All that sneaky assassin training paid off. The undead army crumbles and the surviving humans live to fight another day. Grumble about the finale if you must—especially the awkward final council to choose a new king—but Game of Thrones  knew how to stage an epic battle, and we may never see its like again.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

 

 

Dr. Carr snags the tape recorder in Mindhunter

Mindhunter found a new approach in its second season, as Holden and co. were invited to apply their psychological approach to one very active case down in Atlanta. But the show still really sizzled when its signature inmate interviews got room to breath, and one in particular stood out. Not Charles Manson. Not Son of Sam. It involves Elmer Wayne Henley.

 

Well, Henley isn’t the important part. In episode four, Holden and Hench are called down to Atlanta, leaving resident psychologist Dr. Wendy Carr to take the tape recorder. At first the new brass at the FBI seems hesitant—Carr's academic expertise is necessary to analyze the tapes when they return to the office, they say, so she's indispensable—but if Holden and Hench will be out of commission for a bit the show must go on. And Dr. Carr seems to have a not-so-secret interest in giving active duty a try.

 

The results are riveting. Paired with the office's buttoned-up pencil pusher, Gregg, Dr. Carr initially lets him drive a bit when they sit down with Henley. But Gregg almost instantly freezes up and seems overwhelmed when Henley shows the smallest bit of flair and off-script-behavior. Fortunately, Dr. Carr is ready for the moment, showcasing a willingness to veer away from the plan in the name of results. It's a performance that would make Holden—who season one framed as his own type of psychopath for his love of the inmate interview—proud. And with Dr. Carr finally having more to do than post-game analysis with her co-workers and dating struggles outside the office, actor Anna Torv really gets time to shine.

 

—Nathan Mattise

Enlarge / Annie Wilkes (Lizzy Caplan) is a nurse with mental issues on the run from her past before ending up in Castle Rock.

Hulu

Lizzy Caplan's stunning performance in Castle Rock

A nurse on the run with her teenaged daughter ends up stranded in a small Maine town where something evil lurks in the second season of Castle Rock, Hulu's psychological horror anthology series that draws inspiration from the works of Stephen King. The series was a surprise breakout hit last summer, and S2 doesn't disappoint, bringing the same slow burn leading to a riveting finale. But it's Lizzy Caplan's extraordinary performance that anchors the entire season.

 

The source material this time around is King's award-winning 1987 novel Misery, featuring one of his most memorable characters, Annie Wilkes, a psychotic (and murderous) former nurse, who suffers from schizophrenia and/or bipolar disorder. Castle Rock's storyline focuses on a youthful Annie (Caplan) on the run from an unspecified past with her teenaged daughter Joy (Elsie Fisher). Annie takes stints as a nurse in various hospitals and stays just long enough to steal the medication she needs to keep her mental illness in check before hitting the road in search of a utopian vision she calls the "laughing place."

 

Naturally, the pair ends up in Castle Rock, and Annie takes a job at the local hospital. When Annie's killer instincts get the better of her, she tries to dispose of a body at a local construction site and uncovers a hidden burial site. And she inadvertently awakens something evil that has been lying in wait for four centuries.

 

Caplan had some pretty big shoes to fill as Annie Wilkes: Kathy Bates won an Oscar for her portrayal of the middle-aged Annie in the 1990 film adaptation of Misery. Caplan proves she's more than up to the challenge, expertly capturing the character's trademark qualities: awkward earnestness, lack of direct eye contact, stiff gait, and odd speech patterns and phrasing ("dirty bird," "cockadoodie," and the like). It's also a very human (and humane) depiction of someone struggling to control her mental illness. Annie may be a little crazy, particularly when her meds run out, but she's driven primarily by her love for Joy and proves to be a formidable opponent to anything that would threaten her daughter.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

Enlarge / We get a flashback to Berlin Wall-era Germany for an entire standalone episode outlining the origins of the dimensional split (it's possibly the best single episode of TV in 2019 so far).

Starz

Counterpart’s origin story

One of the best hours of TV this year comes from a show now deceased. Just before what would become the series’ finale aired, Starz announced its intent to cancel the interdimensional espionage thriller Counterpart. This, frankly, sucked for several reasons: JK Simmons had been delightful as two drastically different versions of the same man, the show had a very sleek Cold War aesthetic (thanks to many clever cinematographer tricks), and the plot underlying all of it felt innovative. (The world split in two after a mysterious inciting incident, leaving identical versions of the same people and places to evolve differently in parallel universes. Only a handful of the upper brass in government knew this and attempted intra-dimensional intelligence and diplomacy.)

 

Most disappointing of all, Starz’ decision came not long after Counterpart’s sixth episode in season two, “Twin Cities.” After leaving this world’s origins to the imagination for some 15 episodes, Counterpart scratched every world-building itch with an hour that flashed back to new-wavey East Berlin, pre-Berlin Wall teardown. On the surface, a scientist in the communist half simply wanted a better life for his family and felt the time had come to move to West Berlin, but his lab tech had the malfunction of all malfunctions and opened up a hole in the wall.

 

If you have seen Three Identical Strangers and thought the ethics there felt a little too "people-playing-God," the decisions made following this dimension-opening accident even further dismiss scientific standards. Using almost none of the main show’s main characters, this hour managed to be truly compelling by itself while simultaneously shedding new light on everything that came before and after. Counterpart suddenly became as interested in the nature of humanity as it was in its kinetic spy action, and that’s the kind of show I wish networks were interested in retaining.

 

—Nathan Mattise

Enlarge / Bill Hader shines as a hitman who gets hooked on acting in Los Angeles.

HBO

A hitman goes Hollywood in Barry S2

It's been a good year for Bill Hader. The actor lit up the big screen as adult Richie Tozier in IT: Chapter Two. He also turned in a fantastic performance in the second season of Barry, HBO's comedy-drama about a hitman from Ohio who travels to Los Angeles on assignment, and ends up getting bitten by the acting bug. Think Grosse Pointe Blank goes Hollywood—only darker and more poignant.

 

Co-created by Hader and Alec Berg, S1 introduced us to former Marine Barry Berkman (Hader), who finds himself at loose ends with a bit of PTSD after the end of his service. An old family friend, Monroe Fuches (Stephen Root) grooms him as a hitman, and the arrangement works fine until Barry follows his LA target—an aspiring actor who has run afoul of the Chechen mob—to an acting class taught by Gene Cousineau (Henry Winkler). He's terrible at first, but feels welcomed by the students, especially Sally Reed (Sarah Goldberg). The classes essentially become his therapy sessions.

 

Unfortunately, Barry (now going by the last name Block) can't escape his violent past, and becomes entangled in a turf war between the Chechen and Bolivian local crime syndicates. And the people around him start paying the price. S1 ended with Barry reluctantly shooting Gene's police detective girlfriend, who figures out the truth about Barry.

 

S2 explores the aftermath of that act, his disintegrating relationship with Fuches, a developing romance with Sally, and some surprising growth as an actor, before things come to a head with the discovery of the detective's body. The writing is smart and sharp, and the tone is pitch-perfect, balanced neatly between comedy and tragedy. Hader and Winkler have both won well-deserved Emmys for their performances, and Gene's discovery that Barry likely had something to do with his girlfriend's murder sets up an intriguing conflict for a third season. We can't wait.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

 

First image of article image gallery. Please visit the source link to see all images.

Mr. Robot's fourth and final season

There’s been so much online hype around undeniably enjoyable, winter shows like The Mandalorian and Watchmen, it can seem like nothing else happened on TV recently. But have you been keeping up with Mr. Robot this year?! I know S2 burst the series’ balloon. After the all-time great, kinetic S1, the show offered a twist that took quite a while and didn’t progress the plot (or really our understanding of Elliot). But what Sam Esmail and co. have done this season may be their finest work when all is said and done.

 

No show on TV this side of Watchmen takes the big swings Mr. Robot has in this final run. There’s an action sequence that takes up nearly an entire episode and remains so riveting you don’t realize there’s been no dialogue until the very end. If heart is more your preferred brand of television, the show creates the most relatable, deeply emotional connection for Elliot since his S1 romance with neighbor Shayla (only to have it end in similar, if not more, tragic fashion).

 

We get tremendous showcase episodes for some of most enigmatic and intriguing supporting characters of the last decade: the transgender, Chinese politician/hacker villain Whiterose (an extended flashback look at her backstory), and the true believer, corporate golden boy Tyrell Wellick (a buddy road adventure episode with Elliot). Perhaps the most devastating hour of the entire series is framed and shot as a three-act stage play set entirely in a tiny apartment taken over by a low-level drug dealer.

 

All of that happens before we even get into the endgame—which is yet another big swing, perhaps the biggest of the entire series. Put plainly, Mr. Robot’s final run has lived up to the show’s initial promise, even if that second season may keep it short of being one of the all-time great series. Skip S2 and S3 if you must, but be sure to take in these last 12 episodes.

 

—Nathan Mattise

Enlarge / Teens struggle to restore order in the wake of a zombie apocalypse in Daybreak.

Netflix

Breaking the fourth wall in Daybreak

What if teenagers were the only ones to survive an apocalypse unscathed? That's the deceptively simple premise of Daybreak, based on the graphic novel of the same name by Brian Ralph. The Netflix TV adaptation might be best described "Mad Max meets Ferris Bueller's Day Off"—and in a nod to the latter, the original Ferris Bueller, Matthew Broderick, plays high school principal Michael Burr.

 

Set in Glendale, California, our main protagonist is high school student Josh Wheeler (Colin Ford), who transfers to Glendale High right before a nuclear bomb/biological weapon combination hits the region. The few surviving adults have become "Ghoulies," doomed to crave human flesh. With no adult supervision, the teens stick with what they know, grouping into "tribes" based on stereotypical high school cliques to survive: the Jocks, the Cheermazons, STEM Punks, 4H Club, Game Overs, Disciples of Kardashia, and so forth.

 

Josh is a loner by choice, but gradually starts to attract potential allies: 10-year-old Angelica (Alyvia Alyn Lind), a foul-mouthed "MENSA-level genius with flexible morality" and a deep love of fire and explosions; Wesley Fists (Austin Crute), a former Jock turned pacifist samurai, who hopes to redeem himself for past bad acts via the code of Bushido; Eli Cardashyan (Gregory Kasyan), a bit of a self-serving tool who has holed up alone in the Glendale Mall; and former biology teacher Ms. Crumble (Krysta Rodriguez), who seems to be the only surviving adult who hasn't gone full-on Ghoulie.

 

Like its source material, Daybreak deliberately breaks the fourth wall to address viewers (and sometimes, the writers) directly—a narrative device also used to great effect in Fleabag. But it cleverly tailors the style to the different main characters, each of whom gets a chance to tell their backstory. For instance, Angelica adopts the Goodfellas voiceover technique for her featured episode. Wesley's story is narrated by the Wu-Tang Clan's RZA and illustrated with kung-fu movie animations, and Ms. Crumble finds herself in a cheesy sitcom narration of her backstory.

 

It would be easy to screw up such an ambitious mix of genres and complicated narrative threads, but the show pulls it off. That's largely due to the strong writing, terrific cast, whip-smart dialogue, and rich trove of sly pop culture references. More often than not, the writers subvert our expectations in creative, surprising ways. So it's really too bad Netflix chose to cancel the series, rather than giving Daybreak a chance to find its audience.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

Enlarge / Michael Sheen and David Tennant star in Amazon Prime's TV adaptation of the 1990 novel Good Omens.

Amazon Prime

A faithful adaptation of Good Omens

This six-part limited series is based on the original 1990 novel by Neil Gaiman and the late Terry Pratchett. Good Omens is the story of an angel Aziraphale (Michael Sheen) and a demon Crowley (David Tennant) who gradually become friends over the millennia and team up to avert Armageddon. They've come to be rather fond of the Earth and all its humans with their many foibles, you see—not to mention the perks that come with our big blue orb, like sleek electronics and quaint little restaurants where they know you. The supernatural pair doesn't really want the Antichrist—an 11-year-old boy named Adam (Sam Taylor Buck) who has grown up unaware of his pivotal role in the coming apocalypse—to bring an end to all of that.

 

Gaiman's obvious deep-down, fierce love for this project makes the series a sheer joy to watch. It almost slavishly follows the novel in many respects—right down to the soundtrack packed with the music of Queen, because a running gag is that any cassette tape (it was 1990, folks) left in the car for longer than a fortnight automatically turns into the band's Greatest Hits compilation. That's not a criticism. Apart from a few minor quibbles, this is pretty much everything fans could hope for in a TV adaptation of Good Omens.

 

Among other strengths, the miniseries boasts a truly stellar cast. Tennant and Sheen have great onscreen chemistry and bring their characters to vivid life. It's hard to imagine a more perfect foil to Tennant's brashly irreverent demon than Sheen's sweetly anxious angel fretting over his divided loyalties. Their friendship is very much the heart of the tale, and it mirrors that of Gaiman and Pratchett in many respects: marrying the dark vision of the former and light comic sensibility of the latter produced the best of both worlds in the novel. There is even a small tribute to Pratchett in a scene set in Aziraphale’s bookshop, per Gaiman's Instagram: "There's a little area of Books by one of his favorite authors and a hat that one of the customers left behind and will be back for one day." I'd like to think Pratchett is smiling in some version of an afterlife at what his great friend and writing partner has wrought.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

Enlarge / The crew of The Orville experiences the road not taken in the season two finale.

Fox

Finding the heart of The Orville in S2

Created by star Seth MacFarlane, who plays Captain Ed Mercer, The Orville is set aboard the U.S.S. Orville (ECV-197), an exploratory spaceship in the service of a 25th century interstellar alliance known as the Planetary Union. The show has a similar standalone episodic structure to the original Star Trek, especially in its first season, and the same strong social conscience. TOS, after all, made waves with the first on-air inter-racial kiss. The Orville continues that tradition, delving into gender identity, addiction, bigotry, the pros and cons of social media, and superstition versus rationality, to name a few. We called it "a smart series that combines humor and witty dialogue with cutting-edge science, ethical musings, the occasional literary reference, and genuine heart."

 

The show really hit its stride in its second season. Among the many standout episodes is "Lasting Impressions," in which the Orville is transporting a recently discovered time capsule from 2015. Among the archaeological artifacts: an iPhone that once belonged to a young woman named Laura (Leighton Meester). The ship's pilot, Gordon (Scott Grimes), figures out how to hack into the iPhone and uploads the data to the simulator. The computer creates such a convincing simulation that Gordon falls in love with someone who's been dead for 400 years.

 

It's a lovely episode in part because there's nothing all that special about Laura herself: she could be any pretty young woman working in a department store while trying to make it as a singer. And yet, as Kelly put it, "She reached across four centuries and got a guy to fall in love with her." That makes her truly extraordinary.

 

The season finale takes on the classic sci-fi trope of the alternate timeline, focusing on Ed and Kelly's relationship—they are shown to be the heart of the entire series in the process. What if they had never had a second date, never married, never divorced, and so forth? The repercussions turn out to be more far-reaching than anyone could have imagined. It's an ambitious high-wire feat with callbacks not just to the S1 pilot episode, but to several other subplots, including a S2 two-parter involving the Kaylons—and a gut-wrenching choice that Kaylon crew member Isaac must make between his people and the humans he has come to know. To pull all those disparate narrative and thematic threads together after 13 episodes is pretty darn impressive.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

Enlarge / Homelander basks in the adoration of his fans.

YouTube/Amazon Prime

Superheroes break bad in The Boys

A ragtag gang of vigilantes takes on a powerful group of corrupt and venal superheroes in The Boys, Amazon's adaptation of the comic books series of the same name by Garth Ennis and Darick Robertson. The Boys is set in a fictional version of 2006-2008, where superheroes are real but corrupted by corporate interests and a toxic celebrity-obsessed culture. Billy Butcher (Karl Urban) is a vigilante determined to check the bad behavior of the "supes"—especially The Seven, the most elite superhero squad, and hence the most corrupt. Butcher hates The Seven, especially its leader, Homelander, who raped his wife, and he recruits an equally traumatized young man named Hugh "Hughie" Campbell to help in his revenge. At the same time, an idealistic young woman with powers, Starlight (real name: Annie January), has just joined the ranks of The Seven, but the harsh reality of her coveted position doesn't quite match up to her dreams.

 

The show dials back the over-the-top comic book violence a bit; often what works on the page proves far too graphic fully realized on the screen. But that's not the same thing as watering down the original vision. The Boys TV series is every bit as wickedly funny, darkly irreverent, and unflinching in its depiction of just how violent and depraved The Seven are prepared to be.

 

It's a complicated plot, with lots of moving parts and twists, but it mostly makes sense. The writers also nailed the pacing, weaving together all those disparate narrative threads into a seamless action-packed whole that never lags, yet never seems rushed. But much of the success of this series is due to the careful development of its central characters—no easy feat, given the sheer size of this ensemble cast—and powerfully nuanced performances across the board. Each character has a fascinating backstory, with secret vulnerabilities and believable motivations. Nobody is entirely good or evil. That's why we called it "ideal therapy for anyone who has grown a bit weary of the constant onslaught of superhero movies."

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

 

Enlarge / Not your typical "Romero" zombies: the undead in Kingdom turn fast, move fast, and seem to only come out at night.

YouTube/Netflix

Zombies over-run medieval Korea in Kingdom

A disgraced crown prince in medieval Korea must outsmart a power-hungry rival clan and battle a zombie outbreak before it wipes out the country in Kingdom, a genuinely thrilling period drama from Netflix. It's based on a popular South Korean webcomic, Kingdom of the Gods by Kim Eun-hee, who also adapted it for television. The series is set in Korea's Joeson period, a medieval dynasty that lasted some 500 years (1392-1897). The current king has been critically ill with smallpox and confined to his palace, with only his physicians, royal guards, and young pregnant wife, Queen Cho (Kim Hye-jun), allowed to see him. Not even the king's only son and heir, Crown Prince Lee Chang (Ju Ji-hoon) has seen his father in the last 10 days, and there are rumors that the king has died, with all the civil unrest that entails.

 

The king is being kept technically alive by artificial means—in this case a "resurrection plant" brought by the visiting physician, Lee Seung-Hui, that transforms the king into a flesh-craving undead beast. The term "zombie" is never used, but that's clearly what we're dealing with here. It's purely for political gain. The queen's father, Cho Hak-ju, heads up the Haewon Cho clan, who have been gradually eroding the king's power and influence with an eye toward replacing the crown prince (born to a concubine) with a legitimate heir—assuming the queen gives birth to a son. The suspicious crown prince heads out to the provinces to find out what the physician did to his father, accompanied by a loyal servant, Mu-Yeung (Kim Sang-ho). Naturally the king's affliction begins to spread.

 

The production values are stunning, bringing the historical period to life in rich detail, although doing so pushed the series well over budget and beyond the planned four-month production period. Each of the six episodes (there were originally supposed to be eight) cost roughly $1.78 million to make, according to Variety. Plot-wise, it's a juggernaut, with plenty of sword-play, suspense, and hints of comic relief. Kingdom ends with one heck of a cliffhanger, but fortunately season two is already in the works.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

Enlarge / Natasha Lyonne stars in the Netflix black comedy Russian Doll

Netflix

A time loop with a multiverse twist in Russian Doll

The time loop is pretty much a classic science fiction trope, thanks in large part to the enormous success of the 1993 film Groundhog Day. It's been used so often, in fact, that it's challenging to come up with a fresh take. But the Netflix series Russian Doll manages to do just that, giving us a time loop with a multiverse twist in eight tightly paced half-hour episodes—a welcome novelty in this age of slow-burn peak TV.

 

Co-created by series star Natasha Lyonne with Amy Poehler and Leslye Headland, the plot centers on a chain-smoking game developer named Nadia Vulvokov (Lyonne), who dies repeatedly the night of her 36th birthday party and keeps looping back to the host's funky East Village bathroom. Naturally, Nadia wants to get to the bottom of what might be happening, although her sleuthing is hampered by repeated accidental deaths—including several falls down an especially treacherous staircase.

 

Then she meets a young man named Alan (Charlie Bennett) in an elevator, and realizes he's caught in a time loop, too. Nadia thinks of their shared predicament as "bug in the code" in one of her video games. Find the bug, fix that, and the game will stop crashing for both of them. Gradually, Nadia starts to ponder the possibility of a multiverse, wondering what happens to everyone else when she dies on the night of her party. Perhaps, she thinks, the universe splits every time she dies. "Life is like a box of timelines," she tells Alan's elderly neighbor.

 

Russian Doll is a weird, ribald, thoroughly enjoyable ride that deserves every bit of the praise it has received; the sight gags and whip-smart dialogue are priceless. Much credit goes to Lyonne as its raspy-voiced star. Nadia describes herself as the offspring that Charles Bukowski and the young girl from Brave might spawn. (Alan, in a fit of pique, calls her a "carcinogenic siren.") She's smart, tough, uncompromising, foul-mouthed, and unapologetic about her lifestyle, but haunted (like Tree) by past trauma and regret—and also capable of shining moments of generosity and selflessness.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

Honorable Mentions

Enlarge / Dion (Ja'Siah Young) is an eight-year-old who develops super powers in Raising Dion

Netflix

Raising Dion. This story of a widowed single mom trying to raise a precocious son with superpowers got a bit lost in the deluge of original programming this fall. That's a shame, because it's a refreshingly earnest and thoughtful exploration of the unique challenges that a budding young superhero of color would face.  It's co-produced by Michael B. Jordan (Black Panther's Killmonger), who also plays Mark, the (deceased) father of eight-year-old Dion (Ja'Siah Young). There's mystery, conspiracy, and a sinister supernatural threat, but it's the careful navigation of all the various relationships that ultimately set this series apart. —Jennifer Ouellette

 

Carnival Row. Humans and mythical creatures struggle to live together peaceably in the wake of a devastating war as a brutal serial killer runs amok in Carnival Row, a "Victorian neo-noir" fantasy series on Amazon Prime. The series is part murder mystery, part fairy tale, and 100 percent original. It is to screenwriter Travis Beacham's and director Jon Amiel's credit that the viewing experience is richly immersive rather than hopelessly confusing, and all those threads neatly converge in the finale. —Jennifer Ouellette

 

His Dark Materials. HBO partnered with the BBC to adapt Philip Pullman's classic fantasy trilogy for the small screen, and the result is a visually gorgeous, deftly paced and plotted series that brings Pullman's fictional multiverse to vivid life. Dafne Keen is perfectly cast as the feisty and adventurous main protagonist, Lyra, while Ruth Wilson's taut performance brings out Mrs. Coulter's almost feral ruthlessness, along with her cunning sophistication and a hint of vulnerability. It's not perfect, but it's definitely an improvement over the uneven 2007 film adaptation, The Golden Compass. —Jennifer Ouellette

 

Watchmen. Oh yes, we're definitely watching, and loving, HBO's Watchmen—showrunner Damon Lindelof's remix (don't call it a reboot, or a sequel) of the hugely popular graphic novel by Alan Moore and artist Dave Gibbons. We love it so much, in fact, that we saved the series for our Best of the Decade in TV list instead. (Same goes for its fellow one-season wonder, Chernobyl.)

 

 

 

Source: TV Technica 2019: These were our favorite shows and binges this year (Ars Technica)  

 

(To view the article's image gallery, please visit the above link)