The TV Advent Calendar- Day 7

19. The Americans

This isn't the last time I'm going to say this on this list, but I think the great advantage that TV has is that its allowed to take its time. Long form storytelling has the ability to capture the changes of its characters' lives in real time, and there are few shows that I've seen nail this better than The Americans. Honestly a lot of what I said yesterday about Mad Men can be applied to this show too: there's still the deliberate pacing, ace period details and fraught familial bonds, but this show has the added bonus of intense Cold War paranoia to make everything that little bit more stressful. If the show just followed two Soviet sleeper agents living in suburban America, that would make for some pretty good viewing, but move them in beside an FBI agent, explore the crises their oblivious, all-American kids are facing and put a microscope on their ideological differences and clashing ideas of patriotism and you've got all the ingredients for some barnstorming television

Even so, The Americans is still one of the most uniquely arresting shows that's come out in the last decade, mostly because it's so unbearably slow. There's a sense of impending doom in The Americans, like watching an explosion in slow motion, unfolding so incrementally that none of the characters can see it coming. This is made all the more literal when the show throws actual doomsday devices into the mix, and the sheer paranoia rockets off the charts. The nearly glacial pacing might seem like a bad thing, but the constant fear that everything's going to go to shit is laid on so strong that when it does, it's frequently devastating. It's a pressure cooker, slowly developing each of its plot points till it bleeds with gorgeous, often incredibly worrying ambiguity. And if the fifth season feels a little too deliberate in its pacing, then it's still immensely satisfying to see how everything comes together in that victory lap of a finale

It's one of the best political thrillers of the last decade and that's not even the most compelling thing about it. Sure, the way creator Joe Weisberg picks at Cold War tensions is fascinating and consistently exciting, but for me the show really excels as a study of marriage, family and identity. What's real and what's part of the lie? How far do you go until you've crossed the line and lost who you were? When there's real love and happiness involved, does it even matter that it's all fake? These are difficult questions that Philip and Elizabeth have to keep answering as the show goes on, and the way these tensions are uncorked and the family dynamic changes immensely is a huge part of why it's one of my favourites

It's slow, but there's something admirable about that. In an age where shows frontload their thrills with flashy season enders, there really is something to be said about how The Americans goes for the quieter option but always makes it sting. Invest in the show and you'll be rewarded with unbearable, electric tension that starts to match most horror movies for tie-a-knot-in-your-stomach intensity. This is perhaps most felt in Paige's arc, which is undoubtedly my favourite in the show. The gradual distrust and disillusionment that infects Paige's relationship with her parents forms the most complicated, nuanced, and emotionally affecting dynamic in the show. Again, there's a horror to that, where the real danger is closer than you'd ever have imagined it, and the show just keeps finding new ways to raise the stakes and deepen the emotional divides that keep the Jennings family trapped in the fallout of their falsehoods

It's also got a quality I hugely admire in TV: a dedication to giving it's audience what they need instead of what they necessarily want or expect. This is especially apparent in its ending, and although I'm keeping all of these entries entirely spoiler free, I can't get through this without talking about how incredible START is. It's maybe more minimal of ending than this kind of show would usually go for, but it's a tense, quietly heartbreaking hour of television that features one of the all time great TV needledrops. It forgoes the flash in favour of the truth that The Americans was always dedicated to delivering. Any show that can turn a man's quiet reflection on his future while standing in a MacDonald's into an absolute gut punch has to be doing something right

It's just one of the most purely rewarding shows in terms of what you get out of investing in it that I've ever seen. By the end, I really came to care about each of these characters and every shade of grey they operate in, and The Americans knows exactly how to use that level of investment to make every storytelling decision feel that little bit more satisfying and even haunting from how long they linger after the episode has ended. And when you lay the whole thing out in one glorious saga, you've got a show that fuses complicated political turmoil and emotionally exhausting family drama into an understated epic that once again proves that it's the slowest burns that glow the brightest

The TV Advent Calendar- Day 6

 

20. Mad Men

I find it difficult to talk about Mad Men. Not because it's not good- there's rave reviews, detailed analyses and countless awards to back up its reputation- but because it's large. Spanning from 1960 to 1971, Mad Men contains absolute multitudes, capturing an America in freefall as each of its characters struggle to find some sort of foothold in a constantly shifting society. Largely set around the advertising industry in New York, Mad Men is a show that feels sort of caught between two worlds. On one level, it's got a firm grounding in reality, constantly using real history as a jumping off point to give every story beat that little bit more oomph. But then there's a part of the show that's almost trying to be set somewhere else, a version of the world that the characters try to tell themselves exists. Creator Matthew Weiner is careful to avoid romanticising too much and punishes his characters when they get too close to believing the lie. After all, no matter how sweet a fiction is, it's exactly that: a lie we tell ourselves so we can sleep all night

In many ways, Don Draper's life is built on lies, from the excuses he makes to his wife and kids to the yarns he spins to sell everything from cigarettes to suitcases, right down to the murky dishonesty of his own background. He's a fascinating character, composed of so many contradictions and just about keeping his head above water when we meet him. He's a man who has constructed a perfect, tightly controlled world, manufacturing his own identity with such a rigid belief in the lies he tells himself that he can't see that everything is falling apart around him. It feels slightly reductive to call it the story of one man's downfall, but it's no coincidence that every episode starts with that gorgeously animated prophecy where Don plummets through a blur of the fads and falsehoods he lives to sell

Not that this is exclusively Don's story either. The entire ensemble here is so rich and compelling, not just in their own plots, but in how their stories contribute to the show's broader insights on the world of the 60s and how it gives in to change. The characters are so well drawn that any of them could be singled out for celebration and I'd totally understand, but favourites for me include cold housewife Betty (and Betty's air rifle), the endlessly pathetic and ultimately tragic Lane Pryce, and Elisabeth Moss' Peggy, who has the best arc in the show as she works her way up the ranks of an uncaring and misogynistic society. Her rise intersects perfectly with Don's fall, gloriously illustrated in The Suitcase, the show's midpoint stunner and one of many standout episodes

And that's another thing I love about Mad Men: the sheer density of each individual chapter. Every hour of this show is packed with so much painstaking detail, to the point where I'd actively advise against binging it. It's such a slow-burn, where radical narrative leaps are mostly swapped out for deliberately glacial shifts that affect the larger storyline in ways that only become clear when the whole thing's done. It actually took me years to get into Mad Men for this very reason. I went into it fully ready to tear through it, only for the show's measured pacing to leave it feeling slow and uneventful. I know that might not sound like a recommendation for some, but Mad Men really is a show that rewards patience. Everything matters in this gorgeous slow burn, and it reminds the audience to savor every moment and appreciate the sheer amount of love that's gone into every frame. If you give yourself over to it and trust in the journey, you'll be greatly rewarded by some of the most richly realised drama on television

It's a jaw-dropping feat of writing, not least in how it so delicately balances its tone. The drama is slowly developed but rich with feeling, and when it hits onto an emotional beat, it absolutely devastates. And more often than not, the most affecting moments here are quiet and understated, adding another layer to the deep melancholy of the characters. I also love the way the show uses history as a grand backdrop for the more intimate feelings of isolation and disillusionment that haunt each of the characters. It's one thing to completely recreate a period down to the last details, but Mad Men succeeds because it leans on the disconnect that plagues everyone in its story, laying out this gorgeously realised world solely to emphasise how it doesn't quite fit everyone who lives in it

It's just a landmark in television, a show whose influence can be felt on most of the big prestige dramas that followed it, and although I prefer some of those shows, the enduring quality of Mad Men is absolutely undeniable. It just gets better with every passing year, ironic for a show that really mastered the use of time as a narrative device. This is a show that you can feel change with every season, as early 60s glamour gives way to late 60s disenchantment. It mimics the cultural shifts of the decade it's capturing, but pushes the envelope so much that it also captures the sea change that was happening in TV in the late 2000s. A lot has changed in 14 years, but Mad Men is a constant, and I reckon we'll still be singing its praises in 14 years' time

The TV Advent Calendar- Day 5

21. Hannibal

I compile a list of shows that I love to sum up why I adore the medium of television. I do this to celebrate my fifth anniversary of being a critic and on this list I put Hannibal in the number 21 slot. I proceed to explain why this serial killer drama is one of my favourite shows. This is my design

One thing I think every TV enthusiast has is a show that they mourn. An excellent piece of television that had you hooked episode to episode that the TV gods deemed too underwatched for this world and damned it with an early cancellation. For me, that's Hannibal, a truly epic adaptation of Thomas Harris' series of novels following everyone's favourite man-eating psychologist and the one man capable of understanding him. Despite its three acclaimed seasons and quite possibly the most fanatically devoted fanbase out of any series on this list, Hannibal is a show that ended right as it was approaching its peak, but six years on from that ending, I actually think what we got was a fairly satisfying three-part unit, in spite of a frustrating cancellation

Don't let that put you off if you haven't seen it though. If anything, Hannibal's all-too-quick finish has actually become a strange part of its charm, and the show is so monumentally nuanced and thrilling that even all these years later, horror on TV still hasn't been this good. A huge part of that is the aesthetic. Hannibal excels at mixing high art sensibilities with deeply disturbing ideas; the darkest annals of the human mind rubbing up against the finest of food, fashion and deep cut literary references. It's a deeply fascinating show, one that makes use of a uniquely sinister beauty that I've never quite seen replicated. The show pulls from so many different aspects of culture and combines them with the most horrifying acts of cruelty that man is capable of committing, and although that sounds like it should be a jarring mix, it never is, and that's a testament to how incredible of a showrunner Bryan Fuller truly is

Hannibal isn't scary because it depicts grisly, meticulously crafted murders, but because it tells its story through the eyes of a man who needs to understand why. Will Graham is a fantastic protagonist, and the further he gets in unraveling the inner workings of psychopaths, the closer he gets to tipping over the edge and becoming one himself. There's a real inevitability to Hannibal, which portrays the grim reality of this line of work: that the better you are at your job, the more you increase your chances of being in serious danger. Death isn't a threat in Hannibal, it's a guarantee, and every episode feels like another tick of a clock counting down to the demise of every character

It's a dark show, especially as it dives headlong into the minds of madmen like Francis Dolarhyde and Mason Verger, the latter of whom literally drinks the tears of children. But it's that focus on psychology that makes it so thrilling, especially because no character is spared from analysis. That's a natural consequence of having both Will and Hannibal deal with the reasons behind everything that happens in the show, and a huge part of why it works so well. It becomes doubly fascinating when it addresses their relationship with each other. I really love how Hannibal steers straight into its inherent homoeroticism, turning subtext into text and using that to further develop the narrative and make it infinitely more resonant when the grim inevitabilities of their world interject and complicate they way they see themselves and each other. It's a decision that I come to appreciate more every time a show steers away from addressing any sort of queerness in its narrative, and I think Hannibal is all the richer for keeping it so prevalent

And on the topic of the character himself, I really don't think there's been a better portrayal of Hannibal than Mads Mikkelsen. As much as I like Cox's chilly, understated omen and Hopkins' leery savant, this show's take on Lecter is by far the most nuanced and interesting we've ever had. Watching him go from a trusted ally of the FBI to the strangely charismatic psychopath we've all come to love is the backbone of the show, and Mikkelsen sells every shade of terrifyingly charming that the show requires from him. I also just really love the conflict as well, not just with each killer they're chasing, but all of the tension that stems from Will and Hannibal constantly teetering between being lovers and enemies

It was and always will be head and shoulders above all of its crime contemporaries, and even though it ended right as it was getting started, it's built a following so passionate and a legacy so influential that it doesn't even matter that NBC clipped its wings after three seasons. The Wrath of the Lamb is an audacious, bold hour of television, and the further we get from it, the more fitting of an ending it seems to become. So maybe we won't get to see that Silence of the Lambs storyline, but we'll always have beautifully arranged murders, deeply compelling characters and the ballsiest and most literal cliffhanger in recent memory

The TV Advent Calendar- Day 4

22. Jane the Virgin

Cards on the table, this is probably the most personal pick on this list. Even though Jane the Virgin won accolades and acclaim and a shedload of awards, it's undoubtedly the show on this list where its placement is most linked to my own experience of watching it. But hey, that's what this list is for: a place where I can go in depth about why these shows are my personal favourites, and boy do I love me some Jane. I started watching this show on a whim, and I thought it was pretty sweet for the first few episodes. It didn't blow me away, but I thought the cast were charming and the plot was fairly engaging. And then there's a moment in the ninth episode that hit me like a ton of bricks, punching me square in the heart and sending tears cascading down my face. From that point on, I was in the show's firm emotional chokehold, hoovering up the two seasons that were out at the time, and it kept me hooked right up until the finale. Which brings us here. Now

Jane the Virgin takes a genre of TV I have basically no experience with (the telenovela) and creates such a loving, warm-hearted love letter to it that it doesn't even matter whether you're an expert or a total novice. This is particularly aided by one of the best uses of a narrator I've ever seen in a show. That's Anthony Mendez, whose silky tones perfectly bridge together a myriad of wild, emotional plots, while making sure that the show's frequent use of meta-humour and conceptual playfulness always lands. Because our protagonist is a writer, Jane the Virgin is a show that quickly gains the ability to move seamlessly through the idea of being a creative and approach its wider themes in some pretty inventive ways, ranging from fun, to poignant to utterly devastating

The show has such a great handle on its depth of feeling, especially when it comes to the core characters. There isn't a weak link in the main cast, and the extravagance and insanity of the telenovela-esque plot makes for a perfect match with the writers' ability to make every decision carry serious emotional heft. It won't be for everyone but I think the splashy, over-the-top stylistic choices pair really nicely with the show's ability to keep deepening and complicating its story narratively and emotionally. There's a real truth behind every decision made in Jane, and even when it lapses into the unlikely, it always manages to turn it around again and make it a crucial part of its charm

The twists come hard and fast in Jane, and the show has a real knack for making these big, soapy revelations really resonate. Obviously that's something it borrows from the telenovela but again there's so much love and reverence for that style of storytelling that it never feels like a cheap spoof or parody. Instead, it's a crucial tool for telling Jane's story in a way that directly feeds into something that's important to her. And that's what this is at the end of the day: Jane's story. Everything in this show is done in a way that's totally subjective to Jane, and it builds a nice rhythm of filtering everything that happens through her twin understandings of both reality and the conventions of TV storytelling. This lends the show a heavy dose of self-awareness, but it only works because Gina Rodriguez plays the role to perfection. Again, it's a show with a big-beating heart and shows so much love for every corner of its universe, and so it never feels anything less than 100% genuine when it veers into meta territory

Because the show justifies that and is totally up front with how genre savvy it is, it gives it so much more freedom to use its tropes and clichés in ways that are both knowing and beautifully emotional. Every character is given an arc that is entirely constructed from clichés, but the show is smart enough to dive a little deeper and explore the feeling behind each of its narrative choices. It also lets Jane make some surprisingly sharp social observations that, although they sometimes feel a little heavy-handed, still work because they're usually deployed at the right time to deepen the show's world and lend it some real stakes. All of these beats are remixed constantly over Jane's five seasons, and the show keeps finding ways to use them to ensure that it never once runs out of steam

Again, this is a show that really struck a chord with me when I watched it, a major factor as to why it places on this list, but it's a show that I couldn't compile a top 25 without including. Any show that's broadly a romantic comedy while also incorporating plots about the international drug trade and the American entertainment industry without missing a beat has to be doing something right, and the fact that it's so welcoming and accessible to audiences that might not be the most familiar with the plot beats it's referencing is just another testament to why it works so well. I love Jane Villanueva and her wild, warm world. I've rewatched this show three times at this point, and I know I'll keep coming back to it in the years to come

The TV Advent Calendar- Day 3

23. Arrested Development

And now, the story of a beloved sitcom, and the one critic that tried to explain why it's one of his favourites. Where do I start with this show? How can I even begin to capture the legacy of a sitcom that, in its prime, came to shape the surreal non-sequiturs and repeating variations on jokes that we see time and time again in meme culture? A show that came back from cancellation right at the start of the streaming boom and became a cautionary tale for anyone looking to relive the glory of the past? A show that has such a passionate following, united by the incredibly niche and weird brand of comedy that it makes look so effortless? The truth is that Arrested Development contains multitudes, and putting words on why it works so well is kind of a fool's errand when part of the show's charm comes from how it makes such bizarre comedy flow so seamlessly

And look, we'll get it out of the way now: the fourth and fifth seasons of this show absolutely stink. Not for lack of trying, but the chances of lightning striking the same place twice were always going to be slim. If anything, I think it actually proves how great the first three seasons were that the exact alchemy that went into making them just couldn't be repeated. The way Arrested Development constructs its jokes is just pure genius. It introduces them as funny, slightly random punchlines, before finding new ways to use them again, and again, and again, creating a rhythm and flow that quickly becomes its own comedic language. It's a show with plenty of running gags, but their genius comes from the fact that it's never a sprint or a marathon: it's a relay race

Arrested Development is at its best when it brings back that joke from seven episodes ago that you'd completely forgotten about, and places it in a whole new context, using the same gag in a different way to ensure a totally fresh laugh. And just when you get on the show's wavelength and think you can predict the next joke that's going to make a comeback, it turns out to be one you'd never even have expected, but it always works. Every time this happens, it fits so perfectly into the new context that it makes you wonder how the writers are able to engineer every joke so that they become like comedy swiss-army knives, capable of doing whatever they need to to whenever they need to do it and never once missing a beat in the process

Plot-wise it's a little like Succession, following a rich family finding themselves in the shit again and again, but instead of having them be cold, ruthless and dangerously efficient, every single character is a pathetic, codependent idiot, yet somehow the show finds a way of keeping you onside and making you love the Bluths despite how awful they can be. There's no depth too low for them to stoop to, and although you're laughing at them and not with them, the charm of the cast ensures that every one of these characters stands as some of the funniest and most memorable ever jammed into a sitcom. Special mention of course to living, breathing meme Tobias Funke, and the unforgettable Lucille Bluth, played to acidic perfection by the absolute queen that is the late Jessica Walter

It's also the rare show that I think does benefit from binge watching rather than spacing the episodes out. If you want to get the best out of this show and the unique back and forth it develops between its jokes and your expectations, there's no better way than to just tear through those first three outings in quick succession. Obviously you should go at your own pace, but the beauty of Arrested Development is that it doesn't lose anything when viewed in big chunks of episodes. Again, it's not something I'd usually recommend with most shows but this one really supports it, especially as the seasons roll on and the web of interconnected gags gets more and more intricate and showrunner Mitchell Hurwitz finds more and more ways to expand the universe of the show through the infinite stupidity of the Bluth family

It's just such an innovative show, one that, it its prime, was unparalleled for sheer offbeat genius and inventive, consistently funny jokes. It's a show about stupid, horrible people, but always finds ways to radiate charm and infinitely watchable weirdness. It's a perfect blend of fast-paced ridiculousness and cringe comedy that always hits the spot, and it's just hard to think of another sitcom that nailed every little idiosyncratic detail so well. From the wonderfully pathetic cast of characters to the dialogue that's so specific it nearly becomes its own language and even fake tags at the end of every episode teasing things that aren't going to happen, Arrested Development is just one of a kind. Is it a shame that it couldn't keep its hot streak going? Absolutely, but when it's good, there's few shows that can match it. If you haven't seen it yet, you've made a huge mistake

The TV Advent Calendar- Day 2

 24. Boardwalk Empire

Dark, brooding crime shows with antihero protagonists are nothing new, but when they're done well they can be something really special, which is exactly what Boardwalk Empire is. Created by Sopranos writer Terrence Winter and with a pilot directed by Martin Scorsese, it's packing some serious prestige right off the bat, but the beauty of Boardwalk is its ability to take that impossibly great combination of talents and somehow come out even better, marking itself as one of HBO's best originals to date. It's a gangster show with a unique perspective, showing the sin-soaked world of 1920s Atlantic City from the point-of-view of the deeply corrupt politician Nucky Thompson as he grapples with all manner of forces on both sides of the law during prohibition

With a cast led by the incomparable Steve Buscemi and a legion of the best character actors in the business, there's no shortage of incredible performances in Boardwalk Empire as players both fictional and real dream, scheme and backstab each other in pursuit of power. Steven Graham's turn as Al Capone really needs no introduction at this point but it can't be overstated how full-blooded and thrilling that performance really is. He nails the cold-blooded aggression of course, but there's a quiet, unsettling humanity there too that I think is indicative of how the show weaves history with its own creations. It's consistently inspired, perfectly landing in the middleground between faithful recreation and really exciting historical fiction, and as a result, it's equally welcoming to both newcomers, as well as those familiar with the period

The way that Boardwalk recreates 1920s New Jersey is nothing short of stunning. No detail has been spared here, from the rich period-accurate production design right down to the soundtrack, which is largely composed of music from the era performed by contemporary artists. This is the real heart of the show, and the amount of love gone into restoring this world and bringing every single corner of Atlantic City to life is just absolutely staggering. It fits in nicely with the way the show tells its story too, and as Nucky struggles to keep up with the rapid changes of American society, the whole look and feel of the show follows suit. This is something that especially becomes apparent in the fourth season, which cranks up the melancholy with each episode before forcing you to look back and see how much has changed quicker than you could even begin to notice

It's also worth saying that Boardwalk Empire has a feeling of genuine lethality unlike anything I've seen on TV. Only a select few characters are truly safe, and everyone else feels like they're living on borrowed time. That feeling that anyone can go at any moment is what gives Boardwalk Empire this genuine sense of danger, making it so unpredictable and unbelievably tense, especially when the cast is stacked to the rafters with volatile and violent personalities like Gyp Rosetti and Chalky White who feel like they could just combust at any minute. It's a violent show for sure but it earns every drop of blood, and always takes the time to contemplate on the chaos and ask if any of it was worth it at all

And that's ultimately what the show is about: violence. For all of the glamour and sheen that Atlantic City has on the surface, the core is rotten, and Boardwalk goes on to apply this idea to every American institution. It's set at a time where progress is built on bloodshed, where pleasure has a cost, and everything is deteriorating just as quick as it's being created. There's a quiet tragedy to that, and Boardwalk laments that horrible truth in real time. That does mean that the show's ending is slightly predictable but I'd argue that works in its favour. The destruction coming for every character is inevitable, and instead of denying that or trying to make some kind of grand reveal out of it, Boardwalk hones in on it, steering straight into the storm and meditating on the fate that all violent men are bound to face

It's just such a striking show, one that hits hard and delivers huge thrills without ever sacrificing the tragic sting that comes from a life lived in sin. For all of its blood-soaked bluster, Boardwalk knows how to dole out heartbreak; Farewell Daddy Blues still sticks in my mind as one of the saddest episodes of television I've ever seen, and is a perfect example of how this show is able to build startling, sobering amounts of sympathy for characters who consistently prove to be capable of such awful things. So what if the last season wasn't as good as it could have been? If Nucky Thompson taught us anything, it's that every successful deal comes with a little compromise. I'll drink to that

The TV Advent Calendar- Day 1

 

25. Atlanta

If there's a show currently on the air that I can rely on to always deliver something different with every episode, it's Atlanta. Initially described by its creator, star and actual living god Donald Glover as "Twin Peaks with rappers", Atlanta has found new ways to grow and develop beyond that premise and become something so incredibly specific yet utterly spectacular in just 21 short episodes. It's the kind of thing that could really only exist on television, playing fast and loose with its premise and switching its whole universe up episode to episode. Following put-upon Earn and his efforts to manage the career of his cousin Alfred, AKA the rapper Paper Boi, as well as the adventures of slacker Darius and Earn's on-again, off-again girlfriend Van, Atlanta wastes no time in creating a world of surreal characters and situations that just kind of flit in and out of the gang's life. It's a show that favours a looser, more character-driven narrative rather than a concrete plot, but I think that's absolutely its greatest strength

There's a lot of commentary in Atlanta about America and its descent into increasingly surreal chaos, and the way Glover presents these observations is just insanely effective. More often than not they just appear, breaking the weirdness with a sharp blast of reality. Take season one's The Jacket, where Earn's nonchalant quest to find his missing coat ends with a searing comment on the unfortunately common failings of the American justice system. Not that the show ever feels like a hard watch, either; Glover excels at unleashing the strongest satirical jabs at exactly the right time. It's a tough tone to get right, with a very specific marriage of hard insights and genuinely hilarious gags

So much of this comes from how the show deploys its characters. Earn and Alfred are great right off the bat, and their differing perspectives provide the show new avenues in terms of the storytelling, especially when it plays them off each other like in North of the Border. But for me, the two most interesting and effective players in the main cast are Darius and Van. Lakeith Stanfield refuses to play Darius as any sort of stock "weird best friend" archetype, instead turning him into a slack-jawed eccentric who comes alive with these sudden moments of harebrained genius. Any episode that focuses on him is bound to be a standout, and I think the same is true of Zazie Beets as Van. The show becomes electric when we see the world through her eyes, illuminating the trials and tribulations that come with being a WOC without ever sacrificing the bizarre genius that makes Atlanta stand out

It's just such an exciting show, one that delivers something entirely different in every episode without missing a beat. One minute you could be watching a fairly lighthearted tale of a man trying to get a haircut, only for the show to follow it up with the claustrophobic nightmare that is Teddy Perkins. The sheer variety of where these episodes go and what they're able to say in that time never fails to amaze me. It all just fits together so perfectly to create a believable, lived-in and deliciously weird world, one where alligator men and Justin Bieber rub shoulders with invaluable insights on celebrity culture and the toxicity of social media. It's a show that, at its weirdest, acts as the perfect mirror to the real world, while also serving as an incredible vehicle for the messages that Glover is aiming to deliver

And as the second season progresses, Glover really creates a feeling of entrapment, really leaning on the idea that these characters are stuck in an endless cycle that they'll never quite be able to break. Atlanta knows how to get its audience onside with laughs and gleeful weirdness, but can flip the tone in an instant and make the viewer interrogate why it's doing what it does. There's such a great variety in the episodes but nothing ever feels random. It's not surrealism for the sake of surrealism, and it feels like real care has been put in to build a real narrative throughline, something reinforced by the use of sub-titles. The second installment is a obviously followup to the first, but by marking itself as Robbin' Season, it builds on the idea that everything that happens, no matter how strange, is structured and controlled by an unseen force, making decisions for these characters without them even knowing

It's formless and shapeless, effortlessly doing whatever Glover needs it to, and it never once feels like he's compromising anything in the process. The show is practically built on surprise, constantly finding new ways to push the envelope and deliver the unexpected, and there's something just so thrilling about that. There's just such a dedication to doing something new in every episode, to reinventing itself every time and always hitting the mark. It's a show that recognises and respects the history of all of the TV that influenced it and uses that as a jumping off point to veer into uncharted territory. It's anything but predictable, and whatever it does next, I'll be there, ready to have my mind blown all over again