Yasemin Derin is one of Turkey’s most famous actresses. But when she’s not onscreen or walking the red carpet, she’s murdering evil influential people, which garners her the nickname “Hunter.” Her double life is put in jeopardy, however, when a stalker sends her a series of cryptic texts.

Actress plays into the “unlikeable main character”; a sarcastic anti-hero on the verge of having more weaknesses as she takes in a young actress and falls in love with a mysterious man. The series has a nice cinematic finish, and Pinar Deniz as Yasemin delivers a nonchalant charisma that’s easy to follow.

Every episode of Better Off Ted starts with a satirical commercial from Veridian Dynamics, a multinational that does just about anything: biotech, weaponry, food, clothes, furniture. A soothing, soulless voice narrates the ad as happy, empty stock footage fills the screen: they can get you anything you please as long as it pleases them more. Money before people, goes the company motto, and there seems to be nothing that can stop them from achieving this goal.

Except perhaps for Ted and his small research and development team. As the conscience of Veridian Dynamics, he mediates between his amoral supervisors and hardworking colleagues and sticks up for the little guy as best as he can. He looks for the slim silver lining in every project he’s assigned, but the hijinks that ensue are both silly and sinister, highlighting the inherent contradiction of ideas like “family company” or “work-life balance.” 

Released in 2009 and cut short by ABC after its second-season run, Better Off Ted is an impressively prescient show that holds its own in a TV age obsessed with satirizing corporate culture. It tackles topics like racially-biased tech and meatless meat before they’ve even entered mainstream knowledge. It lacks some of the warmth and character depth you may be used to in typical half-hour sitcoms, but if you’re looking for something wickedly sharp, Better Off Ted is the way to go.

The Old Man has everything you’d expect from a political thriller. The dialogue is mysterious, the setting striking, and the action sequences gripping. Bullets fly and blood spouts from both sides of the border, and despite what each faction tells you, it’s clear there’s no such thing as a good guy. Everyone is a killer, it’s just a matter of being self-aware that you are one. 

The rarity The Old Man brings to the table is that its protagonist-killer is Dan Chase (Jeff Bridges), a former CIA agent in the twilight of his years. Much of the show’s punch comes from Dan and his impressive dexterity. One minute he’s having trouble remembering his medication, and the next, he’s sharp-shooting assassins half his age from miles away. It should be silly, unrealistic even, but Bridges is convincingly well-built and sells it. 

His bromance with fellow veteran John Lithgow is also worth noting. Lithgow plays Harold Harper, an FBI official who is tasked to hunt down Chase because of their close but complicated relationship. Basically, they’re frenemies: former army brothers who’ve chosen different paths, one to rebel and the other to stay. Their repartee alone, elevated by sharp writing and magnetic onscreen presence, makes the show worth it. But it’s the smooth coming-together of all these different elements—the action, the characters, and the twists—that make The Old Man a truly worthwhile watch. 

The Dropout is an eight-part series about disgraced biotech entrepreneur Elizabeth Holmes, played here to eerie perfection by Amanda Seyfried. The show follows Holmes as she drops out of Stanford and pursues her dream to be rich and famous at any cost—even if it means swindling her way to the billion-dollar finish line.

With the facts of the case publicly available and a plethora of scammer shows already streaming on the internet, it’s a small miracle that The Dropout is still able to stand out as a compelling series. This is thanks in large part to Seyfried: she plays Holmes as a shaky, self-conscious, and hyper-ambitious magnate with little to no remorse, and it works. Even though Holmes is pretty much a cautionary household name at this point, The Dropout is still worth watching if only to see Seyfried’s thoughtful portrayal. 

Based on the 2014 film of the same title, this mockumentary series manages the difficult, Seinfeld-ean task of being about nothing in particular and still being funny. Sure, the show’s episodes usually revolve around its core cast of vampires’ unfamiliarity with the real world, but the stakes are low—no pun intended—and the character relationships get to develop at a relaxed pace. Even when new monsters or more fearsome vampires are introduced, the show never loses its absurd, goofy tone. And from insecure Nandor and feisty Nadja, to exasperated Guillermo, monotone Colin, and sassy Laszlo, What We Do in the Shadows boasts one of the most robust ensemble of bumbling protagonists on TV today.

When Elle Fanning and Nicholas Hoult play power-hungry monarchs, what else more is there to say? The actors are very much in their element here, having already perfected similar roles in many films prior (one of them being The Favourite, which was co-written by The Great’s creator). They are the picture of elegance and royalty, and we need no convincing that they can hold 18th-century court. 

Which is why when The Great takes us into its true, crude depths, they transform from simply credible to incredible. Aided by a wonderfully offbeat cast and the one-two punch of a hilarious and raunchy script, Fanning and Hoult deliver splendidly. 

To be sure, this satirical show is not always funny. Sometimes, it takes dark turns to underscore the cruelty of the era, and other times it is genuinely moving in its drama. But this revisionist take on Russia’s Last Empress will always be a ball to watch, if only to see the artifice of aristocracy be stripped off and mocked with acerbic wit and might. 

Sixteen-year-old Rae Earl struggles with many things, among them: severe mental illness, a distorted body image, and less-than-ideal home life. In an attempt to redefine herself and pursue the teenage dream she’s always wanted, she reconnects with her estranged friend Chloe and the cool new people she’s met in Rae’s absence. As Rae gets to know this group more, she embarks on a coming-of-age journey that is, at turns, hilarious, awkward, and painfully real.

Set in ‘90s-era UK and scored to the unbeatable, headbanging tunes of English rock, My Mad Fat Diary is also an effective throwback of a show. It’s sure to be nostalgic to those who grew up in that era, while also doubling as a finely-aged portrait of a simpler time to the rest of us. Elevated, too, by diary doodles come to life and Rae’s unflinching witticisms, the series is a gem for anyone who has struggled to come to terms with their teenage self. 

It’s hard to shock viewers nowadays, with TV being saturated with every type of show imaginable. But Am I Being Unreasonable? succeeds at standing out with deceptive simplicity. The six-part series asks us to follow Nic (Daisy May Cooper) and Jen (Selin Hizli), seemingly ordinary mothers living seemingly ordinary lives. Predictably, it starts with their midlife malaise, but the more we learn about the pair, the more complex and fearsome they become, and the more it becomes clear how difficult it is to know (and much less trust) another person. 

The show swerves from drama to comedy to romance to horror all in a flash, and in lesser hands these changes can be frustrating and jarring. But here they feel welcome and fresh, thanks in large part to confident direction, a whipsmart script, and the wonderful relationship that forms between Nic and Jen. Every twist feels justified and every genre shift feels ingenious. Like its leads, Am I Being Unreasonable? can seem simple at first, but it dives into unexpected depths with every new episode.

Reminding us that there’s so much more to American sketch comedy than Saturday Night Live, Sherman’s Showcase transports us into a bizarre variety show run by an egomaniacal host, where all the laws of space and time seem to be broken. It’s all ultimately very silly, but the jokes that this mock-variety series pulls out of nowhere are so funny because of how unexpected they are—lampooning every niche of the entertainment industry with pure confidence in every line. But even if you don’t get the humor here, Sherman’s Showcase remains a delight to watch just because of the imagination poured into the performances. There are dancers aplenty and novelty songs done in countless styles that stand strong on their own as great music.

Coming-of-age shows are not hard to come by these days. If anything, there might be too many, with a majority of them being hit-or-miss in terms of quality. But before all this, there was one show that tested the waters and bravely went where no teen show had gone: it was called My So-Called Life, and like anything ahead of its time, it was canceled almost from the get-go. 

The show was one of the first to forgo happy endings and neat tie-ups in exchange for depicting the messy, complicated, and real. Fifteen-year-old Angela Chase (Claire Danes) was hardly likable, what with her bouts of angst and anger, but she was always relatable, and you could rely on her and the rest of the Three Rivers gang to deliver the unfiltered truth about teenhood. Even though the ’90s series didn’t attract enough eyeballs to warrant a second season, it’s now getting its due among modern audiences who recognize its influence in every disaffected young lead trying their best to navigate the confusing waters of youth.