The Best TV Seasons of the 2010s

Network: Starz

Airdate: April 23, 2010 - June 25, 2010

Standout episodes: "Precious Lights Pre-School Auction," "Party Down Company Picnic," "Cole Landry's Draft Day Party"

Half a decade before the Starz network started scoring ratings hits like Power, the underdog premium cable network dipped its toe into the world of original series with a hilarious but little seen comedy called Party Down. Each episode followed a day in the life of a Los Angeles catering company staffed with aspiring actors and screenwriters who were just waiting to book that movie that would allow them to quit their day job. And the show itself seemed to be kind of a fleeting temporary gig for the cast—Jane Lynch was mostly absent from the second season after she jumped to the far more high profile Glee, while the chances of a third season were doomed once Adam Scott moved onto Parks & Recreation. But the second season is still a classic, with Megan Mullally stepping in for Lynch as the Party Down gang catered a metal concert after party, Steve Guttenberg’s birthday, and even an orgy.—Al

Network: ABC

Airdate: September 28, 2011 - April 4, 2012

Standout episodes: "Baby Steps," "Cocktails and Dreams," "Party of Six"

When Happy Endings debuted in 2011 as a mid-season replacement, it had the doomed air of yet another Friends knockoff about three guys and three girls living in the big city—the pilot even opened with Alex (Elisha Cuthbert) leaving her fiancé at the altar like Rachel Green. But the Chicago-based sitcom quickly distinguished itself from its antecedents with its own distinctly goofy sense of humor. The ah-mah-zing Casey Wilson and second generation comedy dynamo Damon Wayans Jr. anchored a cast that seemed to fall into each other’s unique comic rhythms by the second season, when they encountered racist parrots, obnoxious teenagers, and Colin Hanks.—Al

Network: HBO

Airdate: April 12, 2015 - June 14, 2015

Standout episodes: "Data," "Testimony," "Election Night"

Though replacement showrunner David Mandel landed Veep’s final seasons more deftly than any new showrunner in memory, there is no political satirist with the sharp, acidic, nihilistic edge of Veep creator Armando Iannucci. And yet, Iannucci didn’t have the full complement of supporting actors to take Veep to its highest heights until he added the brilliant Sam Richardson as lackey’s lackey Richard Splett in Season 3. And so, despite its long and wonderful run, Veep was at its clear peak between Seasons 3 and 5. Though it's hard to pick a “best” season of a very lightly serialized series that specializes in taking away every achievement of its characters soon after they get it, we’ll go with Season 4.

The fourth season of Veep deals with Selina Meyer’s (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss) short-lived and chaotic presidency. The high stakes allow for the show to reach new heights of cynicism and ridiculousness: in the first episode Selina spends the episode figuring out how to literally say two things at once, later in the season her team tries to sink their own bill in the House of Representatives. The sheer futility and absurdity of the entire political enterprise hits home at the end of the season when, after all the personal and professional sacrifices Selina has made, she is thrust back onto the same hamster wheel she has spent her entire career trying to escape.

Season 4 features all of the great ensemble players from the series at the top of their powers. However, it’s guest star Deidrich Bader who ends up being the fullest expression of the season’s cynical brilliance. The rise and fall of his Bill Erickson during the course of the season in what should have been a minor email scandal drives home just how depressing and ridiculous the world of Veep really is. In one of the show’s great episodes “Testimony,” we watch each cast member try to save their own skin at any cost and slowly realize that Erickson is going to be the odd man out, in what amounts to a series high in terms of both comedy and pathos.—Brenden

Network: Netflix

Airdate: September 15, 2017

Standout episode: "Premature Theories"

This Netflix series was one of those shows that not only rewarded you for sticking with the most sophomoric of premises, but also gave you props for watching enough true crime documentaries on Netflix to understand how genius the nuances of this show was. Mostly a mockumentary (with some real-life social issues being touched on in the final act) set at a high school, the first season of American Vandal follows two students investigating the biggest controversy at their high school: who drew all of those dicks on their teacher’s cars?

In typical true crime docuseries fashion, they follow a main suspect, who fits the mold as the kind of douche who would spraypaint big fat dicks on his teachers’ cars, but of course, there are holes in that story. Over the course of the highly-bingeable, laugh-out-loud season, we get a perfect look at the world of high school in Generation Z, right down to how kids use cellphones today; the recreation of the different angles in the big house party, using audio and video from a bunch of social media posts, was pure genius. That’s exactly the kind of shit that made American Vandal work. It knew its audience, knew its subject, and knew how to stretch out the childish stunt (you know, drawing the dicks) into a captivating, engrossing series. It’s almost as if there’s something underneath all of the memes and fuckery of today’s youth.—khal

Network: The CW

Airdate: September 9, 2010 - May 12, 2011

Standout episodes: "Masquerade," "The Dinner Party"

It feels wrong to talk about the decade in television on a list with open arms for everything from HBO to The CW without highlighting The Vampire Diaries. Released during the height of supernatural YA fandom, many wrote the show off as Twilight-for-TV or a watered-down True Blood and dismissed it on arrival. It's fine, so did I. But as a few TV critics I followed in 2009 championed patience with it, I picked up season 1 and...yea, the first few episodes seem like One Tree Hill with fangs. But around episode 4, an intriguing mythology sets in. By 5, the conventions of what you'd expect from your typical cute human girl falls in love with latently predatory but sensitive vampire fall away. I thought for sure Elena Gilbert realizing her hunky new bf Stefan is like 100 years-old would be a season finale twist maybe...not the first fifth of the season! By ep 6, bodies of familiar faces and seemingly plot-armored characters are dropping and you realize...this show treats plot and pacing as a hurdle to overcome the same way 24 or The OC season 1 did.

And for four years, the show met that challenge and knocked it out of the park. Of course Kevin Williamson, the guy behind Dawson's Creek and Scream, would make the YA-vampire adaptation that actually sticks to your ribs. (He went on from this to make The Following, but that's neither here nor there). Williamson and his co-creator Julie Plec's finest hours are undoubtedly in season 2, where it's almost as if the writer's room had a weekly challenge to write the next person into a plot corner and see how they got out of it. I've never seen a season of television quite so propulsive, that keeps the gas on 100mph all throughout and somehow manages to come to a perfect stop.

You've never seen acting in a CW genre series as commited as what Nina Dobrev does here in two performances, playing dopplegangers that could not be more different with all manner of subtle details that should've had her agent's phone ringing off the hook after air. Boone from LOST does dickhead bad boy with a heart of soul with more gravitas than you'd expect given Boone was so expendable he died first. Paul Wesley does the sturdy good guy with a glint of darkness thing David Boreanaz did so well on Buffy and Angel. Best of all, despite a stumble here or there, Diaries manages to realign itself for a worthy finale—which is to say, it's safe to recommend. It's on Netflix, people. The memories activated from just writing this blurb are already tempting me to shove 2020 viewing priorites aside for a rewatch. It's that good, I wouldn't lie to you.—Frazier

Network: Amazon Prime Video

Airdate: February 6, 2014 - September 26, 2014

Standout episodes: Pilot, "Best New Girl," "Why Do We Cover the Mirrors?"

How to talk about the brilliance of Transparent’s first season while acknowledging what came after? Carefully, I guess. From the beginning, there were misgivings about casting a cis actor (Jeffrey Tambor) to play Maura, a trans woman, in Jill Soloway’s chronicle of a Jewish L.A. family’s attempts to understand itself anew during the patriarch’s transition. And then, in 2017, Van Barnes and Trace Lysette, two trans women, accused Tambor of harassment. He was fired from the show the next year; Soloway wrote a memoir that was flayed in the press; the series concluded with a feature-length musical finale that featured a song called “Joyocaust,” among other decisions. Still, the first season remains a powerfully acted, directed and written season of television that admirably explored Maura’s experience alongside her family’s. Jay Duplass nailed the record industry man-child. Gabby Hoffmann delivered career-best work as the floundering youngest sibling. Kathryn Hahn played a hot rabbi: magnificent. You should always keep in mind how the endeavor turned out, but this season remains special.—Ross

Network: CBS

Airdate: September 28, 2010 - May 17, 2011

Standout episodes: "Nine Hours," "Ham Sandwich," "Closing Arguments"

The Good Wife may go down in history as the last great network television drama. While This Is Us has enjoyed commercial success, no drama on CBS, NBC, FOX, or ABC  has had the combination of critical good will and longevity since the series premiered over a decade ago, marking The Good Wife as the end of an era. Its 21 Emmy nominations are one indication of just how good the show was.

Depending on your tastes, you could probably make an argument for any of the first five seasons as the best of the The Good Wife. If the will-they-won’t-they relationship between Will (Josh Charles) and Alicia (leading lady Julianna Marguiles) is central to the series, then the pinnacle of The Good Wife has to be Seasons 2 and 3. Though these two season feel like one 45 episode season on reconsideration (amazing to think about by today’s shortened standard season), we’ll give Season 2 the slight edge, as it comes by its sexual tension and dramatic high points with less labored machinations.

The dynamic between Will and Alicia peaks in Season 2, as does the series’ mad cap New York atmosphere. While The Good Wife is very much a law firm procedural, the colorful guest stars played by actors like Nathan Lane, Alan Cumming, and Carrie Preston always contrasted nicely with the unflappable poise of Margulies and her female associates played by Archie Punjabi and national treasure Christine Baranski.

The Good Wife was an excellent procedural that also gently played with and mocked the well-worn tropes of legal drama. At every turn, the show was funnier, classier, and deeper than it needed to be. At a time when so many talented showrunners were fleeing the networks for streamers and premium cable, Michelle and Robert King were chasing old-school perfection.

This series isn’t getting the attention it deserves in decade retrospectives because the wars are over and the networks lost. But, if network television as we know it has truly come to an end, at least The Good Wife gave us one of the greatest examples of the form on the way out.—Brenden

Network: The CW

Airdate: October 9, 2013 - May 14, 2014

Standout episodes: "State v. Queen," "The Scientist," "The Promise," "Unthinkable"

Prestige shit is cool, but TV needs a good equivalent for a popcorn flick too. The interconnecting superhero universe Greg Berlanti has built over on The CW is a worthy small-screen companion to Kevin Feige's MCU, and it would be impossible without Arrow. Specifically, this season of Arrow, which deserves the same contextual praise as we give say, John Wick 3. Arrow has everything you want from a superhero story, executed at the highest level: stunning action choreography, a compelling leading man you can get behind, a colorful rogues gallery, banter-ready sidekicks, romance, characters thought dead dramatically returning, shocking deaths.

It's the one season in which the show's flashback structure was neither crutch nor hindrance, but a potent narrative tool. As flashbacks detail Oliver Queen's nightmarish stay on the island that would transform him from petulant trust fund baby to gravel-voiced vigilante, his past returns to Star City to haunt him—and make him reckon with his sins. Simply put, this is the show—which already matured from budget Batman Begins to a series with its own tone and identity by the end of season 1—firing on all cylinders.

The CW still lives by the 22-episode season, so arc-wise, it's a long game. But once the season's themes and overarching plot kick into action, it hardly lets up, to a point where it's brimming with sidekicks, new heroes and villains in a manner that seems unsustainable. But even though it teeters on the edge of being an atypically overstuffed superhero sequel, Arrow season 2 never collapses. Instead, it somehow achieves genuine gravitas with a conclusion that ups the personal stakes as much as it does tension. It all builds to a finale that beautifully weaves together Oliver's past and present, figuratively and literally in an achievement of cross-cutting editing and choreography. Arrow became weird, bizarre, annoying (cherish Oliver and Felicity here because it's all downhill after) and later, desperate, in search of attaining these highs again. But in season 2, it's not hyperbole to say Arrow was perfect.—Frazier

Network: Cinemax

Airdate: August 8, 2014 - October 17, 2014

Standout episodes: "Get the Rope," "Crutchfield"

The Knick is the greatest medical drama of all time.

Even Stephen Soderbergh adherents have to admit that his films can sometimes feel rushed and undercooked. The unvarnished chill of High Flying Bird and Magic Mike has some passionate critical supporters, but the hurried feeling to them leaves others cold.

The great thing about The Knick is that creators Jack Amiel and Michael Begler were able to handle the in-depth research required to paint an accurate, compelling vision of turn of 20th century New York City, leaving Soderbergh to figure out how to shoot the hell out of it. 

The early 1900s were an incredibly inventive era in medicine, as the pioneering and risk-taking doctors of The Knick constantly remind us. Soderbergh infused this spirit of inventiveness into his own work, finding new ways to shoot the obligatory beats of medical shows: the operations, the arguments between staff and executives, the moments when doctors and nurses meet their breaking point in the face of human pain and sadness. Every episode was a compelling journey and a cinematic masterclass.

Just as the creative balance between the writers and Soderbergh was perfect on The Knick, Clive Owen was the ideal vessel for telling the story of a strung out genius surgeon barely keeping it together. The brilliant, emotive Owen of Children of Men had been somewhat lost to more straightforward action vehicles in the intervening years before The Knick. But as Dr. John W. Thackery, those eyes that can look so haunted and pained were once again put to good use.

On top of Owen’s performance, The Knick made two of the great character actor discoveries of the 2010s, previewing André Holland’s film stardom in Moonlight and discovering gentle giant Chris Sullivan, who has gone on to a beloved turn in This Is Us.

There are myriad reasons that television shows fail, but when a series turns in a nearly flawless run, it’s hard to say much more than “it just works.” And from top to bottom, from the transformative period production design and costumes to the darkly nuanced lighting to the authentic but never stilted dialogue, The Knick just works. 

If it had continued to work for more than 20 episodes, perhaps The Knick would be universally listed among the best TV shows of the 2010s. Since that isn’t the case, we can settle for simply saying that for a brief, beautiful window of time, The Knick was nearly perfect.—Brenden

Network: HBO

Airdate: October 20, 2019 - December 15, 2019

Standout episdoes: "This Extraordinary Being," "A God Walks Into Abar"

What a daunting task; with Damon Lindelof being one of the most polarizing creatives in the industry right now, it makes sense that he initially turned down HBO’s offer to bring Watchmen to the small screen. After Zack Snyder’s 2009 film, one can understand series co-creator Alan Moore’s edict of not wanting his work to be recreated, and while I highly doubt he actually watched Lindelof’s series, he probably should have. It is dripping with the same aesthetic Moore brought to the original graphic novel series.

Set 30 years after the events of the comic, the series’ now-iconic premiere episode took us into the heart of the Tulsa Race Riots, which is as daring as it was daunting. And while all of the pieces didn’t seem to fit (or make a hell of a lot of sense) as they were initially being presented, [SPOILERS FOLLOW] we ended up getting a heavyweight tale that not only presented the first masked vigilante/superhero being a Black man, but that man ultimately had a granddaughter who is a modern masked vigilante/cop. Oh, and the only true superpowered being in this world ends up being a Black guy...who may have given his powers to his Black wife (played by Regina King)? That’s just the tip of the iceberg—we haven’t even brought up Jeremy Irons catapulting clones into the galaxy, or why a bunch of white supremacists drove around with mad heads of lettuce. Either way, it’s a complex series, one that remixes the same issues and values Moore presented in the graphic novel, but with a focus on the very real race issues going down in the country today.

Keep in mind that the series perplexed many viewers; not sure if this is by design , or just a bunch of people tired of “woke” series and mashing the Rotten Tomatoes dislike, but that’s part of the fun. It was a captivating feat, blending societal ills inside a fascinating flip of one of the biggest genres in the industry today. Your favorite show could never. —khal

Network: HBO

Airdate: August 11, 2019 - October 13, 2019

Standout episodes: "Vaulter," "Hunting," "Ternhaven," "This Is Not for Tears"

It starts with Jeremy Strong's Kendall Roy a dead-eyed, bloodless husk of himself. It ends with Kendall resuming his Shakespearean destiny to kill his father with one of the best twists television saw in 2019. The best story turns are shocking but also make so much sense afterwards that they seem obvious or inevitable. Succession's road there is hard-earned with a season that served hit episode after hit episode on the journey in between.

Succession Season 2’s greatness is intangible, maybe even imperial. The still-nascent series unlocked a gear only few series achieve, especially in real-time: just three weeks into its run, the question quickly evolved from whether a given episode was great, to how great. The sophomore season represents an opportunity to fumble and slump—or double down and go further, faster and harder. The first six episodes of Season 2 (I will allow that 7 and 8 aren’t quite perfect, but even an imperfect episode still has L to the OG, so really, how imperfect is it?) is everything great about Season 1 dialed up to 10 and firing on all cylinders.

This isn’t a series reveling in the narcissistic muck of the 1%. The riches are matter-of-fact; the lack of any establishing shots within any Roy family member’s penthouse reminds me of how Oliver Stone opted to do the same for Bud Fox’s multi-million dollar abode in Wall Street, the better to display the house as just another asset failing to fill our protagonists’ cold dead heart. The Roys, especially the eternally nouveau-riche Logan, may not know the bard off top, but their inter-familial power plays—which only pause to solidify against external threats—are as deliciously, indelibly Shakespearean as they come. Wearing its King Lear aspirations on its sleeve would render a lesser show basic and predictable, Succession is, anchored by a palpably dead-eyed Jeremy Strong putting up several Emmy reel performances, tragically inevitable. The fatal allure of a proximity to wealth, the cosmic trap that is growing up within it, the un-bridgeable divide between second-generation silver spoons and their father, forever haunted by his sacrifices and formative years spent struggling: all themes explored on the periphery as the series races through plots like a ticking clock buyout that has all the nail-biting intensity of 24. The Roy family may be too New Money to appreciate Shakespeare, but in creator Jesse Armstrong’s hands, the tales of their rise and fall are thrilling theater.—Frazier

Network: FX

Airdate: February 9, 2011 - May 4, 2011

Standout episodes: "Brother's Keeper," "Reckoning," "Bloody Harlan"

Few shows have taken as big a leap from Season 1 to Season 2 as Justified. The series began as more or less a cowboys and drug-dealing-white-supremacists story with Raylan Givens (Timothy Olyphant) hunting down the tattooed, drunken monster of the week. Though the show’s grand villain Boyd Crowder (Walton Goggins) was electric from the beginning, the show struggled to develop Raylan and Boyd’s long-simmering grudge because of the show’s overly procedural quality.

In Season 2, the writing staff realized that Justified was really a serialized show about what “justice” means and that both Boyd and Raylan had their own limitations when grasping that concept. The show, then, would work best with a season-long Big Bad who would challenge both Boyd and Raylan’s perception of what is just and what it means to protect their home of Harlan County, Kentucky. 

Enter Margot Martindale as Mags Bennett.

Season 2 ultimately has three antagonists that the moral world of the show revolves around. We’ve got Boyd flirting with leaving crime behind but always finding his way back to the wrong side of the law, Mags trying to both expand her crime empire and protect her home, and then a massive mining conglomerate that wants to strip Harlan County and go on its merry way. In the middle of it all is Raylan, forced to choose which is the greatest of these three evils, and constantly changing his mind.

As Raylan tries to sort out the complicated machinations of the various villains, he is also forced to confront himself and his past. He is from Harlan County, and is slowly realizing that you can never truly leave Harlan County. And while he may stand in judgment of Boyd or Mags, they are both true to themselves in a way Raylan could never be.

Amazingly, the season ends with what feels like a perfect moral balance of all of the competing forces acting on the season. In one of the best season-ending moments of the decade, everything comes back to Mags as we get an amazing callback that both brings us to where we started and reminds us how much has changed.

At the time of Season 2’s release, Justified was being spoken of in the same breath as The Wire and Breaking Bad While Justified has other great seasons, it never quite reached the heights of Season 2, and the show never again had a "villain" as good as Margot Martindale. As if such a thing were possible. This is a season of television that got at what home means, how we interact with it, and how we can never escape it, as well as any piece of art ever has.—Brenden

Network: HBO

Airdate: January 20, 2019 - March 17, 2019

Standout episodes: "M.A.S.H.," "Cruise," "Blondie"

The bittersweet flavor of High Maintenance’s third HBO season is exemplified in the final moment of “Blondie,” in which Barbie (Annie Golden), a quintessential aging New York weirdo, becomes roommates with the show’s recurring young nudist, Arthur (Arthur Meyer). They have a rough go of it, getting on each other’s nerves in his small apartment as her paranoia becomes more pronounced and his nuts hang. Because this is High Maintenance, a little weed mellows the vibe and they finally share a pleasant evening together. Wrapped in a blanket, Barbie watches a glorious sunrise over Brooklyn alone—what’s she thinking? Is she finally experiencing some peace? “Chem trails,” she whispers, the perfect punchline in a season that never lets the viewer get too comfortable.

The first episode, a series highlight, details the unexpected death of an aging hippie who was friends with The Guy (Ben Sinclair), before introducing a new love interest—who happens to be embroiled in a divorce involving an actor with a secret history of abuse. The final episode, “Cruise,” is a stunning and melancholy testament to New York’s exhausting resilience—not to mention how incredible Ben Sinclair has become as an actor. “You've gotta do what’s right in your city tonight,” John Maus sings over the final shots of the Guy biking through Manhattan. Big or small (mostly small), that’s the mission.—Ross

Network: BBC Three/Amazon Prime Video

Airdate: March 4, 2019 - April 8, 2019

Standout episodes: Episode 1, Episode 3, Episode 6

Where American television is all about keeping popular shows on the air as long as possible, even the most beloved British series often last for only a season or two. Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s first TV adaptation of her one woman show Fleabag struck like lightning in 2016 both in Britain, where it aired on the BBC, and in America, where it streamed on Amazon. But after moving onto other projects and closing the door on further seasons of the show, lightning struck twice with an even more widely acclaimed second season (which is also supposedly the last season, as far as we know). 

As Fleabag, Waller-Bridge raises the fourth wall-breaking Ferris Bueller-style asides to the camera to an artform, weaving her monologue to the audience into her dialogue with other characters and making the distinction clear just with her eyes and body language. And in the second season, which won four major awards at the Emmys, that distinction broke down in the most strange and entertaining ways as Fleabag found herself falling for a young priest played by Andrew Scott.—Al

Network: FX

Airdate: October 12, 2015 - December 14, 2015

Standout episodes: "Rhinoceros," "Loplop," "The Castle"

Fargo, both as the Coen Brothers wrote it and Noah Hawley adapted it for television, is a crime story, sure. But, it is also a story about America, the vanishing frontier, and the death of the American Dream.

While Season 1 of Hawley’s Fargo got the crime story just right and Season 3 hit on the rot of American life while missing on some of its plotting, Season 2 was the only season so far to do both to perfection.

There are a number of ways to talk about what Fargo Season 2 is about in terms of plot. It is about a young couple (Jesse Plemmons and Kirsten Dunst) who get in over their heads. It is about a mom and pop Midwestern organized crime operation being pushed out by a corporate syndicate. It is about a man (Zahn McClarnon) struggling with his Native American identity. It is about a Black man (Bokeem Woodbine) willing to do anything for the respect of his white superiors. It is about a police officer (Patrick Wilson) trying to piece it all together.

Thematically, there are another bushel of ways to describe what Season 2 of Fargo is about. It is about the last moments of localized Americana before Reaganomics and deindustrialization hollowed out America. It is about trying to be a cowboy when there is nowhere left to roam that isn’t colonized by shopping malls. It is about the unknowable mysteries of the world beyond ourselves. It is about family. It is about revenge. It is about love. It is about disappointment. It is about pain.

Season 2 of Fargo has a depth of character and theme that has never really been matched anywhere else on television except, perhaps, in Mad Men. It has the pulse-pounding pacing and plotting only seen in expertly crafted shows like Breaking Bad. And yet, it has its own idiosyncratic weirdness that seeps into every frame, every costume, and every odd line of dialogue a la Twin Peaks. It is everything television can be and yet it is totally its own thing, marching to the beat of its own quirky drum. And it is absolutely one of the best seasons of television ever made.—Brenden

Network: FX

Airdate: September 8, 2010 - December 1, 2010

Standout episodes: Pilot, "Manifest Destiny," "Hail Mary"

FX’s Terriers was one of the decade’s great unsung one season wonders, a neo noir story counterintuitively set in a sunny coastal California town, created and cleverly plotted by Ocean’s Eleven screenwriter Ted Griffin. Ex-cop Hank (Donal Logue) and ex-con Britt (Michael Raymond-James) go into business together as private detectives, and some entertaining and surprisingly poignant misadventures ensue. Terriers deserved more than the 13 episodes it got, but those episodes ended so perfectly, with Hank and Britt facing an unresolved fork in the road, that the season functions well as its own standalone story. —Al

Network: HBO

Airdate: January 12, 2014 - March 9, 2014

Standout episodes: "The Secret Fate of All Life," "Who Goes There," "Form and Void"

The first time I heard The Handsome Family’s intro twang back in 2014, I remember feeling that I was in for something special. Now, re-watching True Detective’s debut season five years later, I’m happy to say it’s still just as much of a thrill.

Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson both step on screen with something to prove. Eviscerating their long-time personas of romcom pretty boy and stoner goofball, they disappear into the respective three-dimensional Marty Hart, and quasi-dimensional Rust Cohle. As their captivating performances unfold across the haunting southland of Louisiana it becomes clear however that they’re not the only stars of this production.

Every episode of the eight-part series remains as beautiful as it was upon its premiere. Director Cary Fukunaga ensured this with stellar choices such as the groundbreaking six-minute sequence in "Who Goes There," the slo-mo gunfire in "The Secret Fate of All Life," or the patiently captured aerials of "Church in Ruin." His silver-screen visuals meshed perfectly with an equally radical story and its rejection of small-screen restraints.

Spouted from Rust, expressed in images, and woven into the very mystery, writer Nic Pizzolatto dared to attempt elevated material through the inclusion of themes and motifs once believed too grand for hour-long narratives. The result of this daring is a show layered with meaning, begging to be re-watched ten times over. The heady trip never once becomes a chore though. Flawlessly balanced to indoctrinate you deeper into the case itself, you’re only ever happy to give further thought to the subjects explored as they guarantee a more hair-raising ride across the split timelines and swampy backwoods which comprise its world.

Sadly, the magic of True Detective’s initial outing has yet to be replicated. But to quote the GOAT, “time is a flat circle.” So fingers crossed.—Nate

Network: NBC

Airdate: June 4, 2015 - August 29, 2015

Standout episodes: "The Wrath of the Lamb," "Digestivo," "Contorno"

Hannibal is unlike any other television show.

Sure, writers like us are always quick to make bold proclamations from atop digital Pride Rocks in order to make their voices heard, but in the case of Hannibal, it’s just simply the truth. Helmed by showrunner Bryan Fuller (Pushing Daisies), Hannibal’s visual storytelling was unparalleled. A language all unto itself, it was the television equivalent of Goya’s “Saturn Devouring His Son” painting: a haunting and gory affair, beautifully rendered. The show balances the exquisite with the monstrous, presenting both in equal measures of glory and horror. This may sound pretentious, but Hannibal yielded stunning visuals and shocking plots that were unlike anything seen on cable, let alone at 9 pm on NBC’s (!) Friday block. Few other shows would have the vision to present a sequence in which a film-obsessed killer appears to swallow up a projector and become it himself. Or stage a sex scene between two women as a kaleidoscopic endeavor that’s never exploitative, but rather a perfect combination of sensuality and beauty. The whole show was truly special—but good lord was the third season something truly glorious.

After a second season finale that left the fates of everyone in the show—save for the titular monster himself—up in the air, the first half of the third and final season focuses on a seemingly victorious Lector (a spectacular Mads Mikkelsen) who makes his way to Italy to begin terrorizing a new part of the world. Of course, it’s only a matter of time before our heroes return from licking their wounds to hunt him down. Chased by an obsessive Will Graham (an equally compelling Hugh Dancy), Lector is eventually captured. After a three-year time jump, Fuller then begins a modern retelling of the Red Dragon storyline, casting The Hobbit standout Richard Armitage as a truly cursed Francis Dolarhyde—all the while continuing to paint the show as a truly artistic piece of work.

However, the real triumph is how Fuller lands the decidedly real and rad bromance between Lector and Graham. Having started out as two complete and polar opposites, Season 3 positions the duo as two sides of the same coin, leading into one of the most iconic finales I’ve ever seen. In what can only be described as a blood orgy, Will and Hannibal consummate their love for one another in a dazzling, bloody affair as they kill Dolarhyde together. Even without the emotional weight that leads into this showdown, watching the clip on YouTube yields a mirco thesis of what the show was in its macro: A nightmare dressed and staged as a daydream. And that’s even before the thrilling conclusion that works just as both season and series finale. But the emotionally of it all it doesn’t work without the story that Fuller and his collaborators spun throughout the season, inching these two characters ever closer together. The conclusion puts the men in a place where they’re both unsure where they individually start or conclude. Turns out Hannibal was really a love story all along.—William

Network: Netflix

Airdate: July 22, 2016

Standout episodes: "Fish Out of Water," "Stop the Presses," "Best Thing That Ever Happened"

BoJack is like the animated answer to Mad Men. Each season is just a deeper, darker dive into our hero's blackened soul as the ensemble around him slips into a near-equal state of depression and despair. It also, much like Mad Men, treats form and convention like challenges to overcome for the sake of executing these themes in ways we've never seen before.

Season 3 contains what's widely considered one of the show's best episodes as BoJack embarks on an odyssey in a near-wordless episode set entirely underwater. It's also arguably the bleakest pre-rock bottom (which is definitively season 5) nadir for the has-been ornery horse yet, as he faces the realization that the pinnacle of material success does absolutely nothing to fill his emotional void. I hope next month's series finale offers an ending as emotionally affecting as BoJack in the desert here.—Frazier

Network: AMC

Airdate: August 6, 2018

Standout episodes: "Piñata," "Coushatta," "Winner"

Perhaps even more than the show it originated from, Better Call Saul has favored the journey over the destination. We’ve all seen Breaking Bad and know what fate awaits the artist formally known as Jimmy McGill, but the whys and wherefores of that journey have remained elusive and mysterious. Showrunners Peter Gould and Vince Gilligan realized in the first season that Bob Odenkirk’s performance as Jimmy McGill was so likable and loveable that they could delay the transformation a few seasons. It was a decision that further tied it to the legacy of Breaking Bad, preparing the audience for an eventual turn. So when it finally arrived at the conclusion of Season 4, viewers had been prepared. Yet, the ultimate result was even more gutting than previously imagined. 

Picking up in the immediate aftermath of Chuck’s death, what was an already tense situation between two brothers who never quite saw eye-to-eye, becomes a festering wound. And it’s one that Jimmy has no desire to heal, despite objections from a number of people closest to him. Rather, Jimmy is laser-focused on getting reinstated as a lawyer, planning his comeback by pulling off grift after grift. When the time comes to plead his case to get his job back, Jimmy doesn’t seem sincere enough about Chuck’s passing—which is true. He pulls off one final trick to get what he wants, but it comes at a considerable cost. 

This payment is rendered in the form of Rhea Seehorn’s superlative and criminally underrated performance as Kim Wexler. Frequently painted as the show’s audience surrogate, Kim is often a willing participant in Jimmy’s cons, finding the thrill of the chase just as thrilling as both Jimmy and the audience does. So when Jimmy, forgive my parlance, finally breaks bad at the end of season four, she’s just devastated as the viewers. As Jimmy declares his remorse was just another con, the lingering shot of Kim’s crestfallen realization is just as gutting as anything Walter White did in the quest of his empire.

But that’s only one half of the equation. 

Better Call Saul may take its name from Odenkirk’s titular character, but it’s just as much the story of Mike Ehrmantraut, too. While Mike’s evolution hasn’t been as dramatic, it’s still affecting all the same. The season sees Mike dive deeper into his relationship with Gus Fring (a most welcome Giancarlo Esposito) as the chicken man looks to dramatically expand his empire, he enlists the security skills of Mike to ensure the progression goes smoothly. This ultimately places Mike in a situation that requires him to make a transformation of his own, moving from reluctant anti-hero to something more akin to a full-on villain.

Following in the footsteps of Breaking Bad was always going to be a dangerous proposition and fans were right to be skeptical of the whole endeavor. But Better Call Saul has proven it’s a worthy successor to the empire of one of Peak TV’s towering achievements; Season 4 is undeniably the jewel in that crown.—William

Network: FX

Airdate: July 17, 2014 - September 18, 2014

Standout episodes: "Sunday Funday," "Equally Dead Inside," "Finish Your Milk"

Few series maximize their potential early in their run. But some come out the gate so sure and in command of their tone, themes, and voice that their first season ends up playing like a great debut album: a summation of a yearslong perfected perspective finally released, to a point where no other endeavor after the fact can realistically top this moment. You're the Worst Season 2 has a credible shot, thanks to a harrowingly real depiction of clinical depression. But for my money, nothing can touch Season 1, an airtight anti-romcom that piles everything we know and expect from the genre into a car then gleefully drives up the highway in reverse.

From the pilot it's clear our two fucked up leads Jimmy (Chris Geere) and Gretchen (the magnetic Aya Cash) recognize a kindred brokenness in each other. But they're too damaged to be real about it, and too traumatized to think it'll end any way other than badly. Cue a season of mishaps that filter typical genre tropes through YTW's dysfunctional lens, which as it turns out, is closer to reality than any John Huges movie: the anxiety of a first real "date" after weeks of sex; exclusivity turning into a battle of the wills that actually involves sex with other people; Jimmy saying "see you in a few days then" with a straight face after Gretchen announces she's gotten her period. The whole season traces every logical beat of a new relationship up until the big moment, which lands perfectly. And none of it would work if the show wasn't also laugh-out-loud hilarious, helped by a cast of supporting characters who sketch in a narcissistic bubble of LA where seemingly no one makes it out truly happy. But as the show's theme says, tragedy is inevitable. (But for anyone hedging bets on binging, this year's series finale is pretty perfect!)—Frazier

Network: Lifetime

Airdate: June 1, 2015 - August 3, 2015

Standout episodes: "Fly," "Princess"

Reality television is one of the most important entertainment forces of the twenty-first century, but it has largely been ignored on narrative TV. Perhaps this is out of a feeling of superiority or jealousy, but for the most part, narrative shows are happy to pretend reality TV doesn’t exist. As a result, UnReal Season 1 remains that only truly great look at reality television that narrative TV has produced.

This wall between reality and narrative TV even extends to the people who work on the shows. If you live in Hollywood, you’ve heard the same sob story over many late night drinks: it’s impossible to break out of reality and into “real TV.” This makes it particularly remarkable that not only was UnReal creator Sarah Gertrude Shapiro able to move out of reality television and into narrative, but she did it as the creator of a show about a fictionalized version of the reality show she did her time on, The Bachelor.

The divide and interplay between reality and narrative TV is what makes Season 1 of UnReal remarkable. Shapiro came together with television veteran Marti Noxon to create a show that was ostensibly about The Bachelor but also about how women treat other women and what show business does to women. UnReal follows a season of the fictional, Bachelor-esque Everlasting as veteran producer Quinn King (Constance Zimmer) and her young protege Rachel Goldberg (Shiri Appleby) sink their claws into the shows contestants and each other. Zimmer and Appleby’s phenomenal performances were supported by a strong group of female contestants that humanized roles that are often ripe for mockery on the actual Bachelor. While the characters were often cruel to each other, the show did its best to offer empathy and compassion to its characters.

Like the on-screen pairing of King and Goldberg, the team of Shapiro and Noxon was a difficult and contentious one. Rarely does backstage drama on TV take centerstage, but this relationship was so fraught that it made the trades. Famously, behind the scenes turmoil resulted in Noxon’s departure and a critical dip in quality for the show as UnReal would have a new showrunner to pair with Shapiro for each of its three seasons. But whatever tensions flared, the contentious environment yielded a biting, revelatory look at state of being a woman in Hollywood.—Brenden

Network: USA

Airdate: October 6, 2019 - December 22, 2019

Standout episodes: "407 Proxy Authentication Required," Series Finale (Parts 1 and 2)

What an interesting ride, Elliot. From the mind of Sam Esmail came this dynamic USA series about a hacker with a multiple personalities and a chip on his shoulder the size of the Earth. The complex web Esmail and company wove throughout the previous three seasons deserved a sendoff that allowed them to tie up those loose ends while also giving the audience clarity and satisfaction for having stuck through this intoxicating web, and they more than stuck the landing.

Season 4, set during the holiday season, finds Elliot and Mr. Robot set to take Whiterose out, but doing so is complicated; the prospects of a victory looked bleak. You can’t count ya mans out, though. He found ways to escape everything from the insane Vera and his goons (in a commercial-free five-act play of an episode set in Krista’s apartment that gave us a reveal we’d been waiting for since Season 1 that, while not Earth-shattering at first, set the tone for the episodes following it). It isn’t perfect—some episodes definitely felt a little too filler-y, even though they gave us dope moments in their own right. 

And even though the clear standout of the season is thrown smackdab in the middle of it, you can’t talk about Season 4 of Robot without mentioning the two-part series finale. Giving us an alternate look at the characters we’ve grown to love, it was one of the most beautiful, poignant, and satisfying series finales in recent memory. It hit every beat, it gave us a complete look at what was going on with Elliot, and it even gave us some uplifting words to grow on. If you slept on Robot, give it a chance—it's better, more satisfying and more innovative (visually and narratively) than most of the popular prestige series this decade.—khal

Network: FX

Airdate: March 28, 2018 - May 30, 2018

Standout episodes: “Start,” "The Great Patriotic War," “Jennings, Elizabeth”

From the end of its pilot episode, The Americans was always barreling towards one inevitable conclusion. The masterful show that charted the relationship between two undercover U.S.S.R. spies living in America during the height of the Cold War already had its ending predetermined by history: they were going to lose. It was simply a matter of time before Elizabeth (Keri Russell) and Philip (Matthew Rhys) were found out by their FBI agent neighbor Stan Beeman (Noah Emmerich). Much of the show’s haunting tension lingered around this conceit like an albatross. Always dedicated to showing its work (what other programs would go through the lengths of showing every single bone-breaking detail of how to stuff a dead body into a suitcase?!), viewers knew the eventual betrayal was going to be a knife to the heart. By the time the sixth and final season rolled around, the audience not only knew they were about to be shanked but that the show would be intentional in providing every single painstaking detail of how the blade was pulled before it entered into the chest cavity. Every building block from Season 6 built and coalesced into a finale that that was somehow even more masterful than anyone would or could have anticipated: At the end of it all, Philip and Elizabeth get away. Well, sort of.

For the course of its run, The Americans was a marital relationship show that treated intense spycraft as, well, work. It was a workplace drama in that sense, fundamentally no different at its core than The Office or Mad Men. But what set this show apart from those others is the dedication to the complicated and compelling relationship between Philip and Elizabeth. As the lights dimmed on this final season, creators Joe Weisberg and Joel Fields continued to remind viewers the show was always about this relational dynamic. Sure, we could have seen them go to jail (and that could have been satisfying on some level) it’s arguably just as compelling of an ending to see the Jennings return to a Russia having lost everything—including their friends, their cause, and most importantly their children. And it’s only a matter of time before they lose their homeland, too. After all, the U.S.S.R. will shortly fall and Russia will become more like their adopted home than it ever had before. 

The final shot of the series leaves Elizabeth and Philip as explorers in an unknown world, letting a quiet moment linger between them. For a show that taught its viewers to read those moments intently and purposefully, it rings true. Whatever happens next, they’ll at least have each other. It’ll have to be enough. —William

Network: NBC

Airdate: September 23, 2010 - May 12, 2011

Standout episodes: "Abed's Uncontrollable Christmas," "Critical Film Studies," "A Fistful of Paintballs"

The cult NBC comedy Community probably would never have lasted 6 seasons if a throwaway joke from the show’s second season had not become a rallying cry for the show’s fans: “six seasons and a movie!” (We’re still waiting on the spinoff movie.) Following a paintball-themed creative breakthrough near the end of the first season, creator Dan Harmon led Community on a deliriously creative run of increasingly ambitious genre parodies and meta storylines, many of them directed by Joe and Anthony Russo before they helmed several of Marvel’s biggest box office hits. 

The second season of Community is also when the talented cast started to make the characters their own and break them out of the archetypes they’d been at the beginning of the show’s run. Troy was no longer simply a former high school jock as Donald Glover’s performances became sillier and more electric, while Joel McHale’s Jeff and Gillian Jacobs’s Britta subverted their Cheers-inspired Sam-and-Diane dynamic. But much of the season revolves around Danny Pudi’s Abed, the film student who kept reimagining Greendale Community College through the lens of his camera or his hallucinations of real life becoming a Claymation Christmas special.—Al

Network: FX

Airdate: February 2, 2016 - April 5, 2016

Standout episodes: "The Race Card," "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia"

The success of American Crime Story: The People V. O.J. Simpson was all about two definitive 21st century creative forces coming together to reign in each other’s excesses. While he is prolific, Ryan Murphy’s work has been marked by a tendency towards over-the-top camp. Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski’s well-respected biopic writing can often feel dry and overly studied: films like Big Eyes demonstrate their tendency to value technical accuracy over dramatic tension.

Together, the writing team and the prolific showrunner made something beautiful and defining that transcended anything either had done before. The first season of American Crime Story uses the past to hold up a mirror to the present; The People V. O.J. Simpson worked as a highly dramatic piece of storytelling, but also as a measure of how far we’ve come and how far we still have to go. 

With just ten episodes to work with, the season offers critiques of race, gender, criminal justice, media, fame, and politics in American life, walking a fine tightrope of never letting anyone off the hook and refusing to wallow in self-importance. Back-to-back episodes “The Race Card” directed by the late, great John Singleton and “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia” directed by Murphy could be placed in a time capsule to explain race and gender in the late 20th and early 21st century.

Technically, The People V. O.J. Simpson is never afraid to be either carefully studied or fabulously over the top. A show that can indulge lawyerly minutiae in fairly static scenes and shoot a character simply looking at a newspaper as an insane 360 degree crane shot is truly special. On balance, the result is a season that is never dull but also never gimmicky or indulgent.

Remarkably, the eclectic cast hit the carefully pitched high key tone, often threatening to go over the top, but never crossing the line. Somehow an ensemble the features the broad, bludgeoning talents of John Travolta and Cuba Gooding Jr. alongside the nuanced, smooth acting perfection of Sarah Paulson and Sterling K. Brown manages to feel like a completely rendered artistic project.

It’s difficult to imagine a better season of television than American Crime Story: The People V. O.J. Simpson. On a technical level, on a creative level, on a thematic level, and on a political level, this season of television was the pinnacle of the form, shaped by two very different creative forces working at their peak and a cast as unlikely and as perfect as television has ever seen.—Brenden

Network: FX

Airdate: March 1, 2018 - May 10, 2018

Standout episodes: "Teddy Perkins," "FUBU"

Appropriately titled Atlanta Robbin’ Season, the second installment of Donald Glover’s ground-breaking “comedy” took a deeper look into the lives of the foursome at the heart of this left-field version of the city of Atlanta. Paper Boi’s career is on the rise (at least to a point of getting noticed in the streets and having to make sure his look is always on point), which results in Earn having to get his shit together. Does he? It’s hard to say; he’s certainly helping his cousin out—those streaming checks come in handy!—but he’s still stuck in a terrible rut as a partner and manager. But fuck all of that, the true story of Robbin’ Season is the memorable episodes, characters, and scenes that we were treated with. Need a reminder? Here we go…

Season 2 gave us Teddy Perkins. Talk about a bottle episode! Donald Glover dressed up as a quirky, old version of what many might imagine Michael Jackson would have ended up being—alone with his sins and secrets in a tomb of a home—scaring the SHIT out of us while also giving Darius a full episode to shine. We also got an entire episode about the wildest haircut experience ever. Paper Boi was being called a magician AND stealing lumber? All set to music from Flying Lotus and Thundercat? C’mon son! And this isn’t even touching on small moments, like Earn, Darius, and Paper Boi rocking pajamas like they were out of TLC’s “Creep” video to the opening of the first episode, which turned into a violent drug robbery at a chicken spot, army guns included.

Robbin’ Season was Glover and company in their bag and hitting their stride, while presenting a slice of Black life that many haven’t experienced...in the framework of this offbeat “comedy” surrounding a rapper and his manager cousin. It’s genius, it’s hilarious, and it got Katt Williams on TV in one of his most emotional scenes, ever. Maybe the “robbin’” is Glover taking everything you love in life and putting it into one unforgettable season of television.—khal

Network: HBO

Airdate: April 6, 2014 - June 15, 2014

Standout episodes: "The Lion and The Rose," “The Mountain and The Viper," “The Children”

It’s easy to be jaded by the shit-show that was Game of Thrones' sendoff, but let’s not forget what made us tune in for every second of those last six hours. Writers David Benioff and D.B. Weiss transformed a niche fantasy into a global phenomenon by brilliantly stomping on fans hearts. And no kick scuffed our coronary quite like season 4.

Don’t get it twisted, in its prime GOT was a formidable force across every base of the business, from acting all the way to CGI. The writing was its standout though. Weaving storylines with flawless precision, no other show could come close as they pulled us from Red Wedding numbness by way of a thrilling Purple one, blew our minds with tales of Littlefinger’s treachery, gave us hope as Oberyn stood on the verge of a pure W, only to then crush our dreams in a way we once again foolishly thought impossible. So next time the show’s final season starts to get you down I’d just say try to remember the good times—they were some of television’s best.—Nate

Network: AMC

Airdate: July 17, 2011 - October 9, 2011

Standout episodes: "Crawl Space," "Face Off"

Let’s get the obvious out of the way: Breaking Bad is one of the greatest television shows of the last decade...and of all time (OF ALL TIME). You can hold most seasons of this show up against any other and Walter White would more than likely crush them (or blow them up with some weird SCIENCE, BITCH! shit). Which season of Breaking Bad merks the rest, though? Why, it’s Season 4, of course.

Kicking off with the shocking events of the Season 3 finale (aka Gale getting popped in his doorway), the fourth season of Breaking Bad really is a battle of wills between Gus and Walt. Gus can’t trust Walt, for obvious reasons, but he also can’t easily take him out. So while Fring is working angles to not only get Jesse out of his self-destructive rut but to split him and Walt apart, Walter is busy devising ways to take Gus out (big up that ricin). We find Hank despondent, spending the majority of the season either lost in space or reinvigorating his case against Gus (and, ultimately, Walter). Walt’s also having issues keeping his money together; there’s so much of it, but coming up with wise ways to invest (and divest) his earnings is tricky. That said, the way he was operating in Season 4, it felt like that well was going to dry up soon.

Ultimately, Season 4 is the turning point. Walter’s orchestrated a lot of terror, but you really see his mind shifting from a mild-mannered science teacher who cooked meth on the side to a dealer of death who was only after taking his perceived enemies out. It’s the core of the entire series, literally giving weight to the term “breaking bad,” and is a prime example of When Peak TV Is Done Right. —khal

Network: HBO

Airdate: October 4, 2015 - December 6, 2015

Standout episode: "International Assassin"

When Damon Lindelof optioned the rights to Tom Peralta’s novel The Leftovers, a story about what happened when two percent of the Earth’s population up and disappears, I was here for it. Being a huge Lost fan, and having been reared on HBO’s dramatic series, it felt right up my alley. As Season 1 aired, I noticed that all of my peers who were on that same wave had dwindled to just...me? It wasn’t a surprise; save for some immaculate performances and top-notch episodes, the season was too much of a mixed bag for some to continue to invest their time in.

Imagine the smile on my face when my dedication was redeemed by Season 2 of The Leftovers, which was an entirely new direction for the story, as Season 1 was basically the novel. The main characters moved out of their comfort zones (in more ways than one), and the story, which was already rich in drama and religion, doubled down on EVERYTHING at its core, trying to piece together these humans with shattered souls. And with a cast of stand-outs like Justin Theroux, Ann Dowd, Carrie Coon, and Margaret Qualley were joined by the likes of Kevin Carroll and Regina King(!), blending some new perspectives and angles on this tale of lost souls searching for an answer to The Big Question as well as the little ones that plagued their existence.

With a series featuring a bunch of people purposefully not talking, based on a premise that’s never truly explained, and coming out of a premiere season that left many pining for some of the lower points of Lost, The Leftovers rose like the Phoenix, burning bright and ready to light the way. All of my peers who’d left in the dark doldrums of Season 1 somehow returned, rejoicing over this series that true believers stayed the course with. It’s always great to be on the right side of history, especially if it means that you get to laugh in the face of people who gave you the side eye for sticking with the series to begin with. It almost made me want to push some of those naysayers into a well...almost. —khal

Network: AMC

Airdate: March 25, 2012 - June 10, 2012

Standout episodes: "Mystery Date," "Signal 30," "Far Away Places," "The Other Woman"

In the spring of 2012, Mad Men returned from its longest hiatus at its creative peak, and with Don Draper at an emotional one. Season 4 (the Reasonable Doubt to this season's Blueprint i.e., an equally, arguably worthy answer for greatest season of this great show) posited an inevitability as a sort of mystery. Don would get remarried...but to whom? Megan the secretary is a plot twist Don himself didn't see coming, a cipher that he bets all of his hopes and dreams on. Classic Draper.

When we start, though, they're more well-adjusted than you could possibly imagine. And from there the season is a simmering masterclass in tension, waiting to see if, but really, just how, Don will fuck it up.

By Season 5—a number fewer and fewer prestige shows make it to to end these days, let alone as a midpoint—Matthew Weiner and his writers had a total command of the ensemble, particularly how to ground surprising and sometimes  self-destructive behavior in the backstories we'd spent four years soaking in. Once the initial shock wore off, it never felt manipulative. Even the wildest turns were, in the end, in character. So firm was this grasp that Season 5 might be the most loosely plotted of the entire series. A simple setup of, for example, Megan throws Don a house party for his birthday is all you need, because we, unlike Megan, know how much Don would absolutely loathe having to mingle with his co-workers in his personal space. Or, Pete grapples with suburban ennui and emasculation. In either case, sit back, and wait to see just how the fireworks explode.

But while prestige level writing about the failings and deep insecurities of white men is cool and all, what makes this season soar above the pack of a wildly entertaining and packed decade is the exercise in form that was happening in concert. From sequences like Joan's maternity leave visit to SCDP or Don's birthday party, to full-on episodes like "Far Away Places"—which splits the ensemble off into solo adventures with murky Pulp Fiction-style chronology that makes each story land with greater emphasis once the pieces come together—Weiner and co. were constantly reinventing the ways in which to tell this story with visual and narrative flair. Don's fear of cheating on his new wife gets tackled head-on in "Mystery Date," which ties that anxiety to the country-wide dread in the wake of a Speck murders to create a hallucinatory episode, the closest Mad Men could come to "horror." 

Then after almost two-thirds of set-up, the pieces all come crashing down fantastically in the season's final three episodes, with one devastating gut-punch after another. The dual trajectories of Peggy and Joan have never been more poetic. The stakes of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce never more fatal. And Don has never been more inevitable, striding confidently from marital bliss into the abyss in one of the series' most beautiful shots. Dick Whitman, Don Draper. You only live twice, indeed.—Frazier Tharpe