Here we are, nearly at the year’s end and — as with recent years before it — 2022 was absolutely packed with TV options. This is why I tend to side-eye “best of” lists these days. More than 500 scripted shows came out over the past 12 months. Yes, we critics may watch more TV than the average person. But there’s no way we’re getting a look at the majority of what’s out there. That’s just the reality.
You may notice certain absences on my list that may show up on others: No “Succession,” or “White Lotus” or “The Gilded Age” or “The Crown” — all of which are preoccupied with humanizing the rich and ridiculous. No “Severance,” either — a show with a crackling premise and sharp cast, but nowhere near nine episodes worth of story. Expensively made and sharply acted as these aforementioned series may be, I have some pointed critiques of them all.
So I prefer to think of this list as the shows I watched this past year that stood out as especially smart or just a good time.
Sometimes it’s an original idea that somehow broke through the clutter (increasingly rare these days when IP is king). Sometimes it’s a proven genre given a better-than-solid execution. Sometimes it’s nothing more complicated than a combination of wildly entertaining writing brought to life by thrilling performances.
If any of these titles are new to you and spark any interest, they’re all available at your fingertips to stream. In alphabetical order:
“Abbott Elementary” (ABC/Hulu): Sharply funny and meaningfully warmhearted, the show is such a perfect amalgam of talents in front of and behind the camera, starting with creator and star Quinta Brunson. As fewer sitcoms premiere each season, “Abbott” is a reminder that there’s still value in this format if you do it right. Even on a broadcast network. Especially on a broadcast network. It manages to be unflinching about daily realities at an underfunded school, but also extremely funny about the human condition. And it’s rooted in an idea that has become all too rare in TV and film: We’re all that we’ve got, so let’s work around and subvert all those broken systems that are seemingly too big to fail. Also, it’s a show that gave us this priceless line from Janelle James as the school principal, Ava, showing the fictional camera crew around her private restroom: “If you’re wondering if I have a bidet, you bet I bi-do.”
“Bust Down” (Peacock): Happily plowing over good taste in the name of good jokes, the Peacock comedy is slice-of-life both profane and absurd, centering the misadventures of a group of friends who trade barbs and non sequiturs. Created by and starring comedians Sam Jay, Chris Redd, Langston Kerman and Jak Knight (who died this past July), nothing is off limits — not homelessness, not domestic violence, not the Black church — and if that sounds like a minefield, well, you wouldn’t be wrong. But the show’s creators have a thoughtful intelligence that allows them to take on otherwise touchy subject matter. And it’s funny.
“Couples Therapy” (Showtime): Season 3 of this unscripted series remained as strong as the previous two. The real-world couples featured are unique and exhausting, and dealing with very recognizable, human-scaled problems. But what interests me is the process of watching two combative people working with a therapist (the extraordinarily calming Orna Guralnik) to unravel the mysteries of an unhappy relationship — which, as it turns out, aren’t mysterious when you have a thoughtful and observant third party who is carefully listening. I always feel smarter about the human condition after watching the show.
“Interview with the Vampire” (AMC/AMC+): Adapted from Anne Rice’s 1976 novel (let’s just pretend the 1994 movie never happened, shall we?), show creator Rolin Jones gifted the TV landscape with a series so vibrantly written, tonally self-assured and unexpectedly funny. Yes, funny. Whatever homoerotic subtext there was in the original is now fully text. And the show doesn’t fall into the noncommittal trap of colorblind casting, but makes the story specific to in its depiction of Black culture in New Orleans. With a trio of standout performances from Jacob Anderson, Sam Reid and Bailey Bass.
“Lost Ollie” (Netflix): If this were a movie released in theaters a decade or so ago, rather than a four-part series on Netflix, it’s entirely possible it would have become part of our pop cultural fabric, like “WALL-E” or “Up.” It’s based on William Joyce’s 2016 book “Ollie’s Odyssey,” about a child’s toy bunny, Ollie, who goes missing and must find his way back to his boy. From creator Shannon Tindle and director Peter Ramsey, the series is gorgeously made, blending live action and computer generated visual effects that give the toys movement and expressiveness that’s wonderfully creative and tactile. Not everything here worked for me, but it feels especially grounded and handmade.
“Rap Sh!t” (HBO Max): Working the grind in Miami, a pair of old friends from high school (Aida Osman and KaMillion, both very good here) decide to form a rap group in this comedy from Issa Rae. Portrayed with wit, exuberance, silliness and real intelligence, in its quieter moments the series taps into that inner voice that keeps you awake at night, full of anxiety about why your career is going nowhere. It also captures Phone Life: The show is more cunning than most in the way it seamlessly interweaves the real world and the digital world — and digital personas — of its characters. Social media is ever-present. So is an “always filming” approach to nearly any interaction or moment. Often we see the two leads from their phone’s-eye-view, as if their phones are yet another character, silent but observing.
“Slow Horses” (Apple TV+): The MI5 castoffs working out of a dumpy office called Slough House in London are there for a reason: They’ve all screwed up one way or another and are now banished to this rotting outpost. Instead of the sleek racehorses of British intelligence, these are the slow horses of the title, and they are led by the perpetually unbathed, whiskey-swilling head spy Jackson Lamb, played by Gary Oldman. His looks (and smell) may be deceiving but he’s got a real head for espionage. Adapted from Mick Herron’s darkly funny spy novels, “Slow Horses” is propulsive, fun and smart. Taking its stylistic cue from John le Carre, it’s a welcome change of pace from the bombastic international intrigue of the Bond franchise.
“The Bear” (FX on Hulu): A surprise hit of the summer, the sweaty, cacophonous kitchen dynamics of a Mr. Beef-esque Chicago sandwich shop got an unexpectedly rich and affectionate portrayal in this darkly comedic drama from creator Christopher Storer and co-showrunner Joanna Calo. It stars an intensely conflicted Jeremy Allen White and a droll Ayo Edebiri, who have a terrific peer-to-peer chemistry that is tested time and time again. Like “Abbott Elementary,” it’s notable as a study of people coming together — often begrudgingly so — and it shows how complicated but worthwhile that can be. What inspires people? What makes them feel demoralized? I’m always going to be drawn to process stories and this one is created by people who find the work of working interesting.
“The Ipcress File” (AMC+): I think barely anyone saw this one, let alone knew of its existence. A shame! Based on the 1965 Michael Caine espionage thriller of the same name, a young Brit with clever instincts but not much spy experience (the setting is still the ‘60s) gets roped into a saga that involves a kidnapped nuclear scientist, pushy American interests and a brainwashing scheme that could lead to an assassination. Witty and occasionally legitimately scary, the series is stylish and moves at a good clip — and retains those thick-framed eyeglass frames that are so iconic from Caine’s original performance.
“The Lincoln Lawyer” (Netflix): It’s good to be Michael Connelly. First, the author’s Harry Bosch novels were adapted into a successful TV series. And now his books about Mickey Haller, aka the Lincoln lawyer — a nickname derived from the character’s predilection for working out of his car; yep, a Lincoln — are getting the television treatment as well. If “Bosch” is a noir bathed in the unrelenting Los Angeles sun, “The Lincoln Lawyer” is a different sort of L.A. story, one that’s snappier in approach and tone. There’s banter. And plucky music. But also plenty of solidly plotted storytelling and a character who takes his work seriously. It’s not prestige TV but it is solidly made episodic television, which is hard to come by these days (David E. Kelley, the reigning champ of the legal drama genre, is an executive producer). The series isn’t breaking new ground so much as providing an antidote to the overwhelming Dick Wolfe-ification of the TV landscape; here the stories aren’t told from the point of view of cops and prosecutors, but a criminal defense attorney.
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