10 (non-animated) Television Shows Worth Remembering

As we know, television has been enjoying quite an extended renaissance as of-late, with just so much competent writing, acting and production to set the competitive (and proverbial) stage. What we once relegated to cable as far as selection goes, we now have with different streaming services that are all seemingly intent to cultivate content exclusive to their subscriptions. I feel like it can be a mixed bag strictly from a “consumerist’s” point-of-view, however with that being said, having so many shows green-lit for consumption makes for a digital wonderland of teleplay entertainment. Even beloved classics arestreaming, also broadening the choices we have to such a degree that has never been seen (no pun intended) before. And to make this list even more difficult to whittle down for 10, there are some genres so ripened with dynastic legacies (i.e. sci-fi—the compendium of Star Trek universe[s]) that simply picking a show from their impossibly rich genre-catalogues feels exclusionary—if merely on the basis that I won’t mention every other show that wasn’t chosen for what was instead.

For the sake of simplicity, I will be intentionally leaving out animated shows entirely. For me, animation deserves its own list, and much like this list, the grouping of such a wide, diverse array of shows under a broad moniker of “animated” feels somewhat overgeneralizing, but…you get the picture: live-action people versus drawings and/or animated facsimiles. Therefore, there will probably follow separate lists for animation, comedies, sitcoms, children’s shows, maybe decade(s)—and so forth.

From a time standpoint, I’ll just be ‘shooting from the hip’ here in terms of what immediately came to mind for me. There will be some styles and/or genres left out as well, but once again, it’s difficult to distill 10 shows from the plethora of I’ve watched over the years. I can only assume there can also exist different variations of this list, such as “10 Great Shows on Netflix/Disney+/HBO,” or “10 Great British Shows", etc.—perhaps at another point in time I’ll add another 10, but my point is: here are some (American) television shows from the endless existent out there that are at-least worth mentioning, if within this very small microcosm of time, worthy of remembrance.

In no real, particular order:

#1. Twin Peaks (1990-1991; 2017)

Created by Mark Frost and David Lynch

Categorized and often heralded as a certifiable cult classic, Twin Peaks remains still as an interesting, syncretic meld of a hodgepodge of differing themes/aesthetics/genres—noir, soap opera, paranormal thriller, murder mystery, romantic melodrama, arthouse, camp and crime drama. What starts out as a fairly routine, straightforward premise quickly evolves into so much more involving deception, ancient spirits, parallel and combating worlds, doppelgängers, romance, ad infinitum. The thing for me that works here is how naturally each of Twin Peaks’s elements flows together: the incredible score by Angelo Badalamenti; the subversive and transgressive subtextual themes within its writing/imagery; its amazing cast of talent; the iconographic scenery, opening intro; and last but not least of all, its beautiful, albeit eerie haunting of the town itself.

Everything from relationships to the very fabric of this fictional sleeping town is disrupted, threatened after the mysterious death of one Laura Palmer (for all intents and purposes, the proverbial heart of the town). Special Agent Dale Cooper (hamly acted by Blue Velvet/David Lynch favorite, Kyle MacLachlan) is brought in to investigate, thus kicking off what is an unexpected, twisting journey into the very spirit of evil. There’s so much more to be said about this show, and while it definitely is not made for everyone, for those whom this resonates, it does seemingly profoundly. Twin Peaks has gone beyond withstanding the test of time, and has remained influent to a number of creative works in its wake (Riverdale, Silent Hill, Mizzurna Falls, etc.).

The 2017 reboot/return (aptly titled, The Return) was received to warm reviews, though some of its reception felt mixed by long-time fans—I suspect it was deliberately written to introduce more questions than it was supposed/expected to answer. I enjoyed it for what it was, though perhaps my favorite season will always be the first just for how well it was made. Fire Walk With Me, an excellent prequel film done after the initial series, I felt was worthy to be held alongside the original, though the recasting of Donna remains a sore spot for me, and also, some of its graphic depictions of sexual violence can be triggering.

All in all, I think my favorite episode is episode #29, Beyond Life and Death—the imagery of the last 20 minutes will forever be seared into my psyche. Lastly, though I felt dissatisfied with how her character’s arc was handled/written, Donna is probably my favorite; I enjoy characters central to a story who aren’t depicted as “special” or “chosen,” but rather, are regular, everyday joes who rise above their circumstances and limits.

#2. Dead Like Me (2003-2004)

Created by Bryan Fuller

Another cult-classic/sleeper on this list, Dead Like Me is a vibe akin to Twin Peaks, an interesting meld of styles/genres, that being (in my inference/opinion): dark comedy, dramedy, noir, fantasy, socio-religious commentary and satire. There is something to be said of the modest, 2-season Showtime series’ premise, and that is an earnest, heartfelt yet cynically skeptical exploration of the nature and framework of Death itself. What questions Dead Like Me introduces speaks to a greater ethos beyond its screen, and feel as if strangely, intuitively relevant, not apart from our daily lives: where do we go after we die?—who/what determines our journey into the next life?—is there a grand schema to all of this, or is it as arbitrary and monotonous as a meter-maid punching our proverbial ticket?—etc.

We follow Georgia “George” Lass (excellently played by Ellen Muth) who one day is plucked from her rather humdrum, dull existence, then thrown into a quasi-Dickensian cosmic/supernatural position to be one of many preexisting arbiters of Death. The premise here is handled with an emotional honesty to appeal to our own experiences over losing loved ones, even our thoughts about how would we feel about witnessing our lives without us in them. Dead Like Me successfully juggles existential malaise alongside its poesy, heartfelt explorations of mortality, spirituality, relationships and the innate banality to it all in a grand sense.

Unfortunately, what we did end up with as a series finale felt underwhelming and lacking a true, resolute conclusion. In 2009, there was a film released to serve as the end of the show, titled Dead Like Me: Life After Death, however, I personally wouldn’t deem it required viewing for anyone who falls in love with this show. Yes, there are some aspects to the writing that show their age, yes there are tonal shifts midway through season 1, the write-off of characters and/or other imperfections, but what does remain is funny, a darkly-warm mirror to our own inanities about Death mythology, how we can learn to make the most of whatever time we have left and not be afraid of passing on.

#3. The Wire (2002-2008)

Created by David Simon.

As a fan of Simon’s well-written, though problematic (to say the least) book for which the series was based, 1991’s Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets, and also its subsequent television adaption, NBC’s Homicide: Life on the Streets (1993-1999), The Wire felt like a creative culmination or continuation of its source material, like the 3rd installation to a decade-long crime saga. Some say this is a cop drama, crime show, though I see The Wire also as a cultural, socio-political, systemic exploration and commentary of a city’s inhabitants whose journeys are endemic of greater issues. Police brutality, racism, poverty, political corruption, the social caste system-to-crime pipeline, prison-industrial complex, media—all of these and more are depicted here influencing one another, showing how this complex web of seemingly competing functions and ideologies of society can ultimately fuel the very issues they are built to tackle.

Some serious talent had their breakthroughs here—to name a few: Idris Elba, Wendell Pierce, Andre Royo, the late Michael K. Williams, Seth Gilliam, and of-course, Sonja Sohn. What makes me really appreciate this show is not only how grounded its premise, stakes, characterizations and motivations truly are, but to put it bluntly, how the cast is focusedly (and appropriately) Black-led, predominately driven by people of color in ways most televisions shows never depict, nor give adequate, dignified screen time for. It’s a beautiful, though desperate synergy here: Baltimore at its heart, exploring the stories of what’s rarely accurately given light, and that is its underserved, marginalized communities of inner-city and urban areas that regularly endure monolithic, complex systemic pressures.

Yes, the cops are depicted here as mostly the Good Guys™ , despite their explicit straying from higher good and into the ‘grey’; yes, there is a jingoistic, underlying message here that law enforcement, while depicted as flawed and problematic, robust though underfunded, but ultimately at the end of the day, they’re all just blue-collar joes caught up in it like the rest of us (to which, take or leave its messaging at the door); and yes, the thin blue line justifications are rampant; however, regardless of your views of The Wire’s competing, overt and subtextual political messaging (and to give credit the show’s strengths), the barebones human drama depicted on its own is well worth the price of admission, let alone everything else it has to say over important issues, and despite my criticisms, I’m in the camp of people who think this is one of the best TV shows ever made.

#4. High Fidelity (2020)

Based off the novel, High Fidelity by Nick Hornsby; developed by Veronica West and Sarah Kucserka

As a fan of the original 1995 Hornsby novel, in-addition the excellent (though teency problematic in-retrospect) 2000 film adaptation of the same name starring John Cusack, I was not only primed for Hulu’s 2020 High Fidelity reboot/reboot, but perhaps was (probably) the more-than-likely intended Millennial and/or Gen-X target demographic. If you’ve already watched the Cusack film then you’ll feel right at home here, though instead of our self-loathing, self-admitted asshole protagonist, Robb, the series is led by a sort of doppelgänger/alternative to him, one Robyn (nicknamed “Rob”) who also owns/runs a Championship Vinyl, and instead of Chicago we are in Brooklyn. Part as to what makes this series so engaging is how it delicately balances and preserves the spirit of its source material(s) (not to mention paying plenty of homage), but also simultaneously transgresses it, in-essence normalizing a queer woman of color’s love life—one who so also happens to be independent, a business owner, both likable and not, quirky, neurotic, interesting though challenging, immature yet profoundly wise, etc. I loved the comedic beats woven between Rob’s ups and downs on her journey for love, and how well the writers approach a genre often-rife and dominated by a proverbial chauvinistic tone/lens, but done in a way effortlessly natural, innately authentic, breathing with life rather than ideologically soap-boxy.

The ever talented Zoë Kravitz is exceptional here, playing the part of our unreliable protagonist quite well—coincidentally, a role opposite to that of her mother, Lisa Bonet, who appeared in the 2000 film as the memorable, “Cheryl Crow-ish, crossed with a post-Partridge Family, pre-L.A. Law Susan Dey kind of thing, but you know, um black,” Marie DeSalle. Just as the original, various music and pop-cultural references become inundated to the show’s narrative, as well as the tried-and-true exercise of Top 5’s list-making. Sadly, whether due to COVID-19 and/or other behind-the-scenes reasons, High Fidelity wasn’t greenlit for another season, so the 10 episodes we got are that much more special and bittersweet. Maybe it’s to the show’s benefit it’ll be remembered as one and done ala’ Freaks and Geeks, in that—given shows lengthy as the 15-season Supernatural, or the 19-and-running Grey’s Anatomy, High Fidelity’s small asking price for admission of 10 episodes can lend its strength and be finished over a couch-bound weekend.

#5. Riverdale (2017-2023)

Based off Archie comics by John L. Goldwater, Bob Montana and Vic Bloom; developed by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa,

I’ll be honest, I loved Archie comics and had (and have, still) a Betty & Veronica subscription before I ever saw an episode of Riverdale, nor knew of its radical departure from its source material. There’s so many things to say about Riverdale, both positive and negative, but as its inclusion to this list, I prefer to view it in a more favorable light than its detractors. The show is and isn’t so many things, often subverting the audience’s expectations to differing results, to which, I happen to enjoy how off the rails it gets. If you can picture a kind of world like The Simpsons, where over-extraordinary things regularly happen amidst a premise of everyday, any-town, then one might start to appreciate the absurd heights of which Riverdale challenges, casts it characters against unbelievable odds. As our story progresses, so too does its escalating stakes without any thresholds, and I for one love that it doesn’t hide the fact that it’s based on a comic which does the same thing: anything can happen in a panel, only for the next to keep what’s convenient from it (or not), then discards the rest.

It was a bit jarring to see things such as (SPOILERS) Archie becoming a bareknuckle boxing champion in prison, Betty own her dark, dominatrix side, Veronica run a speakeasy as a mobster princess, Jughead ascend the inherited throne of a motorcycle gang—plus, there’s even more, way more. The ludicrousness of what realism the plot discards is why I loved Riverdale that much more: the more isn’t what this show attempts to temper nor throttle, but leans into. The progression to over-the-top comic book hilarity is gradual, and what once seemed farfetched in season 1 becomes par for the course by season 3. Countless homages (including a very sneaky, cleverly hidden nod to Carnival of Souls) litter the fictional town and are rampant of outside film, television and pop-cultural references; there’s illogical breaks into song and dance as though we’re watching Glee; there’s tonal shifts repeated in juxtapositioning fashion throughout the series, and so much more overly-gratuitous, in-your-face leaps to the point where one must sit back and simply laugh—Riverdale perhaps has perfected the art of not taking oneself so seriously (nor giving any proverbial F’s).

Somehow, Riverdale is a merger of the routine cult-classic (shlock, campy, over-the-top niche) while also at the same time, managing to be popular—warranting 7 seasons. In any other timeline, something like this might’ve failed, but this delicate, precise dance of chaos, fan-service, suburban-pulp-fantasy and everything else you can throw in works, even when it doesn’t.

#6. The Sopranos (1999-2007)

Created by David Chase

Another show for which endless has already been written. A neo-Goodfellas meets All in the Family and a bit of The Honeymooners, The Sopranos is one of the best television shows I’ve ever seen, and one of the very select few I’ve chosen to rewatch more than once. The acting, sets, casting, directing, music, writing (especially), everything cohesively builds this show into something that feels transcendent to other shows before, even after. At-first, one may watch and take away more of the crime-related plot points and all the like, however, I’d like to say The Sopranos is an indictment of not just its obvious genre-origins and tropes, but also American culture itself—there is an existential examination at play here I’d argue, and the parallel of Tony Soprano’s sociopathic mindset versus what can inferred as existential decay (even nihilistically so) within our society feels relevant. For every outlet a mob boss could have to be happy, there are many true-to-life depictions of the banal mundane, the vast employ of suburban emptiness to echo what could be a siren song for the American dream (or rather, what was lost in chase of it…).

So much has been written, I’ll just say go watch it, even if you’re remotely interested. It’s that good.

#7. Freaks and Geeks (1999)

Created by Paul Fieg

Back to the cult classics and for that, NBC’s short-lived, 1-season Freaks and Geeks lives on as both an awkward, yet endearing portraiture of suburban American uncoolness circa the early-1980’s. Wood-panel station wagons, shag carpets, mustard plaid to corduroy-everything typifies the backdrop to which we follow one Lindsay Weir (played superbly by Linda Cardellini), a self-hating ‘geek’ who vies to fit herself in with an aforementioned group of ‘freaks’. burnouts, outcasts to channel her (relatable) rebelliousness, angst and brooding, coming-of-age teenage cynicism. Just as other shows on this list, it’s hard to define what kind of show Freaks and Geeks exactly is: is it a dramedy, or a coming-of-age story, maybe nostalgic recounting and/or young adult drama? The best way I can quickly describe this show is The Wonder Years meets Superbad.

While I have my criticisms regarding its homogenous lens of relatability and lack of people of color in any real or notable roles, there’s still some excellent topics explored and interpreted through the same milquetoast perception we’ve become privy, as though the same double-edged naivety we fell in love with in The Breakfast Club, its inoculative bubble is its own strength—speaking to the meta-narrative of a digital-less, internet-less culture…one where what one saw/lived around them was what one knew. For example, Freaks and Geeks to this day remains the only television show I’ve ever seen even approach (let alone handle with dignity and nuance) the mere existence of an intersex character (who’s not depicted as a walking trope). Drug use, social hierarchies, abusive homes, bullying, identity, privilege and classism—there’s real themes/topics explored and done in a way that doesn’t feel placating, yet remains relatable, inevitable through the writing, acting, directing, etc.

In 18 memorable episodes, it feels as though we’ve really gotten a slice of someone else’s life through a visual time capsule. Even now as I write this, the way Lindsay’s house looks on the outside, her lawn, dinners over the table with family, McKinley High—everything feels plucked from some alternate reality rather than a set. It’s interesting to note that a lot of the cast went on to have considerable careers, to which, going back in time and seeing them in this heightens the already implicit nostalgia prevalent throughout. And, if I had to pick a favorite episode, it would probably be #4, Kim Kelly Is My Friend.

#8. The Twilight Zone (1959-1964)

Created by Rod Serling

There have been multiple reiterations/reboots of this original series, insomuch that the title, The Twilight Zone now refers to its own media franchise rather than a colloquial designation to what I immediately think of as that iconic, black-and-white, retro opening with the *teeny-teeny-teeny-teeny* spiraling theme. What can I say that hasn’t been already written about this sci-fi-horror progenitor? Innovative and original? As much as anything can be, I assume. Creepy, sometimes (if-unfortunately, unintentionally) funny? Check. Influential long after it stopped airing, to which, its spiritual successors would undoubtably owe at-least a part of their lineage to (i.e. The Outer Limits, Black Mirror, Tales From the Crypt series, etc.)? Yes, for certain. The Twilight Zone, for all of its imperfections, successes, risks, and subsequent reiterations, still lives on as a perfectly good idea on paper to translate/adapt in-motion time and time again, and that is the concept of what we know as curated anthology, thematic overture, a collection of unrelated tales woven in such a way that feels connected (ala’ Final Fantasy).

True, some episodes indeed lack a satisfying “twist” and are straightforward, wholly unsophisticated with their moral, while others do offer a nice (and often insidious) “reveal,” and it really is a mixed bag from one episode to the next. In-fact, I would probably enjoy making a list of my favorite 10 from the original series, because of the show’s diverse plots, settings and subject matter. Most of what we see pretty much falls in the realm of sci-fi horror, but there are episodes definitively rooted in existential horror (think: Ari Aster films), many akin cautionary tales of human nature, then there are a few even with happy endings (more or less, contextually). What makes it satisfying is knowing you’re in good hands here, and that for every dud of an episode you may regret spending precious time on, there are another half dozen that will knock it out of the park (at-least, for me). The tone of this show feels so perfectly executed, even when it fails; The Twilight Zone is so visually impressionistic that even if it were silent, I’d argue it still would have the same weight and heady impact so many years later.

Some of my favorites, off the top of my head: The Midnight Sun, The Hitchhiker, Where Is Everybody?, And When the Sky Was Opened, The Shelter, Nightmare at 20,000 Feet, Eye of the Beholder, The Hunt…

#9. The Real World (1992-2017/2019)

Created by Mary Ellis Bunim and Jonathan Murray

For this selection specifically, I’m going to just go with the first 3 to 5 seasons, before the advent of what we all know now as the modern ‘reality show’. Specifically, and especially was MTV’s The Real World’s first season, in NYC for being the very first ‘reality show’ in actuality and of its kind, before all the Frankenstein-cuts, scripted characters and/or plot lines, overly cartoonish typecasting—the list goes on. There’s a strange, even now dare I say fresh feeling to those first few seasons, before the art that we know of today as always filming oneself and being watched became typified; the conversations feel awkward, vulnerable, authentic, misdirected, heated, exploratory—how the way people really talk to another. Maybe it’s because there’s an inner nostalgic in me for the 1990’s and my former dwelling of New York, but I can’t help but fall in love with what felt like some sort of genuine social experiment gone awry and sold to the public as documentary.

Later and later seasons would eventually become scripted, even directed, and the barrier between the cast and crew further obfuscated by the intentional setting up of confrontations in order to generate drama (any of this sound familiar?), however…again, those first few seasons have a genuineness that I feel supersedes what would ultimately (and ironically) lead the series to become a mockery of itself. For instance, Kevin and Rebecca’s arguments that first season over race and sex are captured unadulterated, non-performative and frankly put, awkwardly vulnerable, despite their heated volley. In-fact, a lot what we see is so unscripted, that it begs to challenge the imagination of our collective memory, and (now) to re-imagine a world before the age of hyper-produced reality-fiction, because this strange idea of simply capturing people on film unscripted - drama or not - feels so impossible now that we shall never trust the word of another producer ever again.

I really can’t stress enough that this isn’t simply a nostalgia pick, but some memorable, quality experiences to take away after watching those first few seasons. A time-capsule, yes, MTV’s Real World is, taking us all back to a time and place for which we remember these daytime episodes littering through the channel surf, but to stay tuned and actively watch with a new set of eyes…well, it’s a completely different experience now, for me.

#10. The Walking Dead (2010-2022)

Created by Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore and Charlie Adlard; developed by Frank Darabont

This show marks an era of my life. I will never forget those days awaiting a new episode, spending time wondering the respective fates regarding my beloved characters, shedding tears whenever someone I grew an affinity to/with was killed…The Walking Dead will forever be a companion to my young adult life throughout my drifting in NYC around the same time. Many discussions were had with friends, chosen family about who we related closest, what could or couldn’t (or shouldn’t) be done according to any one situation, anger about pivotal deaths to a dysfunctional family we loved watching over time—there was such a large social component, much like its contemporary (and I’d argue, rival) Game of Thrones was at their heights. I thought, daydreamed, wrote of my para-social connections to these fictitious characters (not the actors, mind you), and that is what lends AMC’s The Walking Dead (or now, TWD) an absolute obligatory addition to this list.

In-fact, I’d happily rewatch it again, knowing full well all of the botched fates to be, the stilted writing and directing that would haunt the series in the later seasons, and on and on. I can absolutely stand by my opinion that the first few seasons of The Walking Dead is some of the best television ever made. It’s a shame what ended up becoming of this once tour de force, powerhouse of ensemble, however what I will say is that there are some worthy moments and arcs that justify a continuance following lets say, seasons 4 and 5. In another, fictitious life, where I had endless amount of time and resources, I’d love to assemble a fan cut of the later seasons to distill the bloated runtimes, remove the “bottle” episodes, filler, and focus in on the important storylines that actually would go somewhere.

For fans of this show, I would probably put together a top 10 of my favorite characters, but here are some in no particular order, off the top of my head: Maggie, Darryl (of-friggin course), Glenn, Shane (yes, I know), Judith, Michonne, Carol, Ezekiel, Tyrese, Beth (yes, another…), and on and on, like we all once did with the-now defunct, The Talking Dead. Sure, this may be a nostalgia pick, yet as silly as this sounds, The Walking Dead—for a period during its height, was a big part of my life, and thus, will forever deserve its spot for me <3