The TV Advent Calendar- Day 11

15. Fargo

This is a true story. The events depicted here aired on FX from 2014 until the present day. At the request of the shows ranked above it, they will not be mentioned. Out of respect for the shows that have been discussed so far, the rest has been told exactly as it occurred

I've spoken a lot on here about the Coen Brothers' 1996 crime classic Fargo, and for good reason. It's one of my favourite films, a reminder that even with all of the darkness and evil in the world,  we need to push on and fight for the things that are good. As much as that film means to me though, I didn't come onto the TV spinoff till much later. I don't know, maybe it was a snobbish impulse but I just couldn't see it living up to the film somehow, which just goes to show what I know. Needless to say I eventually caved, devouring all three seasons at the time and absolutely falling in love with the world Noah Hawley and team created. Set in the same world as the film, Fargo is a similar balance of nihilistic crime storytelling and puckish humour, with the added bonus of telling a different story each season, which gives the show much more scope and lets each run feel like its own take on the themes and ideas of Fargo

As always, those themes and ideas usually spiral out of the desperate things that people do to get out of bad situations. Here, every problem presents a choice, where wrong seems right, and quick fixes lead to utter chaos. The show doubles down on the idea that doing the wrong thing because it's easy will always lead to a person's destruction, but uses the advantage of time and season-long arcs to express this in ways that the film just didn't have the time to. The first season remixes a lot of the original film's beats but makes sure to develop them in a way that feels wholly organic. If you're familiar with the film, you'll have a foothold in the story right from the start, while still being open to the fresh direction that Hawley ends up taking those recognisable beats. But don't worry if you're a newcomer to the Fargoverse either, because the show clears the slate just enough to ensure that everyone can enjoy its darkly comic delights. The nods and references are more bonuses than anything, but Hawley backs them up with storylines and characters that stand just as well on their own, so if you've never seen the film, you'll still be able to appreciate what they mean in context to the show

The show exists in the film's universe but it quickly establishes itself as its own perfect unit, where each season moves outward rather than forward, constantly expanding on this world and keeping those same ideas fresh by putting them in different contexts and approaching the key themes of fate, morality and self-destruction from different angles. It's not a reboot; it's a remix, where the old building blocks are rearranged to form a new story. That gets even more exciting in the second season when the show stops looking to the film for beats to play with and reintroduces ideas unique to the show to put a fresh spin on. That constant internal referencing that the show builds is a crucial part of its charm. This is a big, organic world, a storybook where a playful author is letting these tall tales bounce off of each other, clashing into each other and exploding in really electric ways, but always keeping the focus on how the story is told each time

Because that's ultimately what Fargo is about: stories. More specifically, about larger than life yarns that spiral out of control and travel fast around small towns. I love the disclaimers at the start of each episode, the banners that read "This is a True Story", because it turns these kooky, snow-covered crime tales into local folklore, myths and cautionary tales that keep one foot in the absurd. The characters are big and exaggerated but that's why it works. They're folk legends, like the killer disguised as a preacher, or the bridge champion turned femme fatale. I love that borderline fantasy feel that every season has, and it really helps the Easter eggs and references feel like so more than hollow postmodern fanservice. No, these are little signs of love and care, dogears on important pages that mark Fargo as a real work of passion

It's a reminder that the constantly spinning wheel of sequels, prequels, remakes and reboots can actually be okay sometimes, and can give us some genuine gems that are interested in re-evaluating the past instead of just revisiting it. Even if you have no interest in the Coen Brothers or the original film, Fargo still works as an icy, darkly hilarious crime anthology that can be watched totally fresh. It's sharp and exciting, satisfying because it invests in the details and mines them for serious thrills. The film is a great story about how people who do wrong are fated to fail, but the show broadens the scope and flips it around somewhat to focus on what it means for someone in this world to do the right thing. When cynicism is setting in and everyone around you is resorting to convenient cruelty, do you throw in the towel and do the same?

Just like in the film, the answer is clearly no; the world is a strange, cruel place where random violence seems totally inevitable, but that's all the more reason to fight against it, to do right in spite of the total chaos that drives so many others to nihilism. There's a lot of good in the world after all, and it's worth protecting. Fargo is a perfect blend of comical violence and defiant heart that never sacrifices the utter chaos that has always made this story work. So the fourth season was a damp squib, what are you gonna do? Fargo is pure modern myth by way of the strange tales that echo around seedy bar rooms. It's a total blast, poetic and pulpy and consistently exciting. A worthy follow-up to the original film? You betcha

The TV Advent Calendar- Day 10

16. Bojack Horseman

Like a lot of people, I didn't really know what to do with Bojack Horseman when it first came out. It's an adult cartoon about a depressed talking horse trying to revitalise his failed acting career? That's cool... I guess? To be fair, its a show that does take a while to find its feet, but when it gets the hang of things in the second season, it really started to become a firm favourite. I guess I should start this one with a bit of background. I love animation and always have, but I kind of struggle to connect with a lot of the big adult cartoons. You know, the ones where the jokes are crass cheap shots and the animation is basic and hard to look at? Yeah, those ones. The funny thing about Bojack's first season is that it was obvious that it was something else, it just wasn't really clear what that was exactly. But if you know this show, you kind of know the rest. It's a beautiful, nuanced take on metal health and the toxic entertainment industry with some of the best wordplay in the game, right?

Short answer? Yes, but there's more here too. Bojack has rightly been lauded for how it tackles its themes, and rightfully so. Its exploration of depression, addiction and self-sabotage is real and heartfelt, and the show excels at bringing these, difficult, incredibly moving moments to life. This is made all the better by the fact that every season feels very much like its own complete chapter, each one a different chunk of Bojack's life that dissects the challenges that stand in the way of his redemption. The show never makes excuses for Bojack's behavior or even expects you to like him most of the time, but it always ensures that the viewer understands where he's coming from at all times. It's a tricky balance, especially when dealing with some of the subject matter that it discusses, but the show is fearless and gentle, always staying honest even when the conversation gets difficult

It's also just one of the best TV comedies in recent memory. I feel like that's an aspect of the show that doesn't get discussed as much as it should, because it might not feel as impressive as its excellent grasp on the dark subject matter but it's honestly just as good. From the constant barrage of sight gags to the ace puns and whole episode jokes (the surprise party where everyone stays hidden the whole time is incredible), Bojack always knows how to deliver the goods. The show always knows how to keep the creativity flowing too, with a real knowledge of the value of individual episodes that makes every step of the journey always feel really exciting

From lauded underwater odysseys and whole-episode eulogies to slightly trickier concepts like two dueling stories restricted by confidentiality agreements, or the frankly terrifying episode that takes place almost entirely underground, the show's grasp on its world is impossibly strong, putting far more effort into the details and the inner workings of Hollywoo than most of its contemporaries do with shaping their settings. It's the most dynamic and alive setting for an adult cartoon since Springfield, with gradual changes occurring over time making the town feel much more real, while masking the horrible poison underneath. It's a venomous takedown of L.A. that always feels vibrant and vital. It's clichéd to say that the setting is another character but honestly, that couldn't be more true here, especially as the tone darkens and the streets of Hollywoo start to feel more cynical and sour while staying deceptively colourful and zany

That manifests itself in some of the angriest and funniest satire of the entertainment industry I've ever seen. The Cosby episode is often singled out and rightly so: it's a bold, intelligent half hour of television that aims its fury at a system that routinely lets terrible men away with heinous acts. That becomes even more apparent with the fifth season's incredible analysis of the #MeToo movement that's never anything less than honest and essential. It's a show that excels at navigating controversy, including those leveled against it. The casting of Alison Brie as Diane was a decision that most shows would have ardently and misguidedly defended but Bojack addresses its own mistakes, refusing to place itself above the criticisms it directs at others and providing an emotional and nuanced take on cultural identity and the feeling of constantly being an outsider. Its that kind of inward thinking that makes this show special. After all, why make a show about troubled characters learning to change if you're not willing to follow their lead?

But the heart of this show is the cast of characters. Obviously Bojack is an incredibly written, frustratingly human figure but the rest are just as strong. Princess Caroline and Todd are my two absolute favourites but I could really take any of the main or side characters and hold them up for praise. Everyone is empathetic, everyone's on a journey, and everyone is multi-faceted and deeply flawed. For a show full of talking animals, Bojack is one of the best studies of the human condition put to television, that also just happens to be one of the most fantastically creative expressions of its key ideas. The episode concepts are constantly going outside the box, but they work because all of their experimentations are tied back to what makes these characters tick. It's weird and intelligent, but always rooted in the familiar feelings of failure and frustration

It's a show routinely lauded as one of the best cartoons of all time, and while it's not quite my favourite animated show, it's hard to deny how extraordinary Bojack Horseman truly is. It's a show that catches you off guard and continues to raise the bar in unexpected way, always funny, always clever, and always absolutely heartbreaking. It's Bojack Horseman, and if you haven't seen it yet, you owe it to yourself to experience the wonderful and horrifying world of Hollywoo

The TV Advent Calendar- Day 9

17. Game of Thrones

It seems now that the words `Game of Thrones` are synonymous with disappointment, and that's a real shame, because at it's best, there are few shows that can match the blockbuster thrill ride that was Game of Thrones. After all, why throw the baby out with the bathwater and pretend that the show was never any good? Thrones captivated the world and set a new standard for blockbuster storytelling on TV, and it still stands as potentially the last true watercooler moment in an age of streaming, and I think that's worth celebrating, and it also just really means a lot to me as a TV watching experience, and what is this if not a list of my favourites?

Game of Thrones is a show that I didn't warm up to for years, slowly working through the fantastic but dense and deliberate first two seasons, but once I arrived at season 3, I was hooked, and the show did not let me go after that. It's been said so many times, but the world this show crafts is utterly insane, so intricate and full of constantly moving pieces, with an expansive cast of well-drawn characters flitting between factions that are in turn constantly navigating ever shifting power dynamics. That makes for undeniably fun to watch TV, especially once the fundamentals of the show have been established and it really feels like the characters are occupying a real, living space. These are regions with their own histories, customs and traditions, and the way the show introduces each faction is just so smooth and effortless. Everything belongs in this world, and everything feels so organically integrated.

It's peak TV spectacle, but not in a hollow way. There's a value to being able to capture your audience, to shocking people with devastating betrayals and unexpected deaths or blowing minds with some of the biggest action scenes ever put on television. And look, maybe this doesn't make it the deepest show in the world but personally I love the roller coaster quality of it all, following the pieces being pushed into place each season before the penultimate episode flips the board and makes you question the rules of the game. It's dense and smartly plotted, but the reason it connected with so many people is that it's fun. Game of Thrones is enjoyable television to watch, and even when the writing wobbles, it keeps up that white knuckle engagement and understands exactly how to get a reaction out of its audience

And look, I could point to a very long list of the show's flaws, and an even longer list of legitimate criticisms of how the story was told even before it went off-book, many of which I really feel myself. But plenty of people have put it better than I could, and there's a whole rabbithole of fantastic articles that you could go down that cover the show's more problematic aspects. This is one show on the list that I really understand just about every take on, because I think it invites that kind of discussion. I love it, a lot, but I understand that the way Thrones goes about handling its more sensitive themes is... flawed, to say the least. At least the show ironed most of these issues out as it went on, and ultimately ends up as an uneven but largely enjoyable package

And again, enjoyable is really the word here. Whether the show is getting you to engage in intense political discussion and military planning or exploding into full rock n' roll fantasy action, Game of Thrones is an absolute blast. Also worth appreciating just how intricate the show was in its prime, how that sense of lethality and brutality made it so no character was truly safe, and every move that the characters made affected the wider map of relationships. That's what makes the world of this show so exciting to navigate, and crucially, what made it resonate with so many people. Whether it was a terrifying avalanche of reanimated corpses or the venomous revelations of an old woman facing down her assassin, Thrones always knew the right notes to hit to get people foaming at the mouth for more. It's a tricky thing having such a command of your audience. This show made it look effortless

Hell, even in the last season, the show knew how much these characters meant to people. Take A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, an entire episode dedicated to the whole cast realising that this night may be their last, and the show exploring what makes each of them such an interesting addition to its world. Forget what came after it and appreciate how wonderfully that hour of TV honours the connections the characters built with audiences and each other over eight long years. The players here are varied and interesting, and everyone has their favourites. I gravitated towards a lot of characters but if I'm being completely honest with myself, there are few characters in any show that I love as much as Jaime Lannister. His arc (or most of it) is honestly some of the most rewarding character development I've ever seen, and it goes back to what I was saying with The Americans and investment, where a show trusts you to connect with a character early on and believe in the changes they undergo. That to me is just great storytelling

So there you go. Game of Thrones is a fantastic viewing experience that I'll never forget. It built a huge world that grew more with every episode, gave us some of the easiest characters to love and hate on TV, and had some utterly unforgettable episodes with some truly unbelievable moments. I love it, even with all of its flaws, but that's what being a fan of something is, right? Being able to accept the whole package for what it is and taking the lows with the highs. This is a show that I'll always come back to and always defend because I really don't feel that the experience of watching it and falling in love with it was entirely ruined by where the show ended up. Is it a perfect show? Certainly not, but it is one of my favourites without a doubt, and one I'll always go to bat for. The things we do for love

The TV Advent Calendar- Day 8

18. Gravity Falls

Picking my favourite animated shows was tough, and honestly could have been a list in itself, but even if it's not my number one (at least not today), there's something that just keeps me coming back to Gravity Falls year after year. The last decade has had no shortage of great cartoons made by creators who wear their love of animation on their sleeve- Steven Universe, Craig of the Creek, Adventure Time and especially Regular Show are all wonderful- but there's something about Alex Hirsch's style that just hits the spot for me. I'm not just talking about the look of the show, although that's great too, but the approach to worldbuilding and driving the plot that Hirsch and company built up over the show's run. I also just love the really specific tone of Gravity Falls as it teeters between heart-on-sleeve sweetness and some genuinely dark and somber imagery that constantly pushes its Y7 rating

Following twins Dipper and Mabel Pines over one summer in the bizarre town of Gravity Falls, the show wastes no time in creating a world that's constantly expanding and deepening with every episode. I love how no character feels wasted or throwaway either, and even the ones that largely exist for comedy get a fair amount of time to make their personalities felt. It's all about that main cast though, a really loveable lineup of characters (for the most part, but this isn't the time or place to go into that) that ensure that the audience is invested from the start, and Hirsch is great at keeping all of the balls in the air even as the narrative starts to become denser and less episodic

The central mystery is fascinating, and watching the episodes as they aired was a great experience, made even better by how careful and playful Hirsch is as a storyteller. From the cryptograms and hidden messages in every episode to the way the show acknowledges its audiences' expectations at every turn, there's a real sense of engagement in Gravity Falls, where the show is encouraging its audience to fully take part in the experience of watching it. It's an exciting thing when a show has a handle on its fandom like this and fully leans into what the audience is getting out of it. That goes beyond the mystery and right into the show's sense of humour, too. The gags are genre savvy without being tedious, fully paying homage to the movies, shows, music and games that the writers clearly worship and perfectly offsetting the story beats that make Gravity Falls a worthy successor to its influences

The show excels at telling an ongoing story but it's just as exciting when its tackling the episodic, monster-of-the-week stuff too. Again, every story told bleeds with a real love for pop culture, and even when the show is subverting its subjects, there's so much passion for everything from retro fighting games to old-school claymation creature effects, and it's just infectious. The conceptually loose nature of the happenings in Gravity Falls gives the writers a wider scope of beasties and weirdos to draw from, and what's really exciting is that everyone's going to have different favourites. Personally I'm a sucker for the darker monsters that terrorize the Pines family, like Giffany, the Northwest Mansion ghost or the Summerween Trickster, but the show is able to strike gold with a whole range of seriously strange threats that consistently feel like genre-riffing perfection

It's also got a threat unlike anything I've ever seen in a show like this: the truly unhinged and infinitely memeable Bill Cipher. It's rare that a character manages to be so consistently hilarious while also posing a genuine threat but Bill nails both sheerly out of how much chaos he brings to the narrative. Whether he's using Dipper as a puppet or bringing about the end of days, everything Bill does comes from a place of convention-upending madness. And that's the thing: he doesn't want to take over the world, or even harm the protagonists directly, at least not at first. His only aim is to break the world down to its most deranged and bizarre components and turn it into his own personal playground of strange. And that's it. He's never redeemed, we never find out any sort of backstory, he's just pure chaotic evil and the show is smart enough to know exactly how to use that for both seriously dark laughs and surprisingly weighty storytelling

But what really makes Gravity Falls work is the level of heart on display in every single moment of he show. It's is so sweet and so pure, and I think that backs up everything else that works about it. The show manages to create a really specific tone that could really appeal to audiences of all ages, and there's really something here for everyone. It's bright, breezy and fun, but takes its younger viewers seriously, treating them with respect and trusting them to understand the story's darker beats. It plays just as well to an older audience, leaning on its charm without ever tipping into reliable but cheap nostalgia, and the lessons it teaches are explored so smartly that I think anyone could take the right things away from the show. There's not an awful lot of shows that I would say have an entirely universal appeal, but Gravity Falls is definitely one of them

It's a love letter to youth and curiousity with a clear reverence for obscure anime, B-horror movies and the dodgy exploits of amateur scam artists. Its sense of humour runs the gamut from light and silly to how-the-hell-did-this-air-on-the-Disney-Channel levels of slipping under the radar. But my favourite thing about Gravity Falls is by far the world that Alex Hirsch has created here. The mysteries don't feel like cheap excuses to keep the show going, but actual rabbitholes that make the world feel so much bigger every time they're explored. The town is lived in and real, with a history that feels organic and rewarding to explore. It's nothing short of a joy to watch it develop for the first time, and an essential comfort to return to time and again. Weird, wise, creepy, hilarious and ultimately beautiful, it's one summer trip that I'll never tire of going on

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