Because of that depth, I refuse to limit myself to the standard top ten list. There's just too much that's awesome, and I only write about TV once a year, so let's do a top 25. And while I certainly pay heed to the caveats of such an exercise, I also unabashedly love ranking things. Sure, just because I put something one spot ahead of something else doesn't mean I absolutely love it more. But, I did spend some time trying to order everything by just how much it entertained/moved/wowed me this year, so hopefully this is an enlightening exercise for all involved.
As always, a list isn't a list without some context, so here's some quick hits on what didn't make it. If something doesn't appear, that means I didn't watch it. Because, you know, it's Peak TV and all.
VERY BAD SHOWS
This category is reserved for two shows: True Detective and The League. The former tried to live up to its fantastic first season by doing entirely too much, while the latter didn't do much of anything playing out the string in its final season. Let's not speak of them anymore.
GOOD SHOWS, BUT NOT CLOSE TO THE LIST
Top Chef continues to rule the reality/competition genre, but doesn't feel quite as essential as it did in it's heyday. Fortitude was Pivot's first attempt at prestige drama, and at times seemed like just that - that is, a fledgling network trying to paint by numbers to make something great. Some of it worked, most of it didn't. I watched one episode of Penny Dreadful before giving up; not because it's bad, but mostly because it's just not my cup of tea. Masters of Sex once again was a pretty great show when it focused on its leads and their studies, but the rest was mostly a mess. Shameless followed up its finest season with a bit of a letdown, but Lip and Frank's stories still worked fairly well. Homeland finally eliminated some (but not all) of its worst tendencies, but turned in a season that was at times quite dull. I guess that's what happens when you try to jam 6 episodes of story into 12 hours. The Jinx was well done, but much like Serial, I just can't get that excited about digging through the minutiae of a cold case. Orphan Black continued to suffer from bloat, but it did clear the decks a bit by the end, so I'm hopeful that the next season might at least approach the highs of the first season*. Halt and Catch Fire told a great story about the rise of the tech industry, but I never quite fell in love with it. And then there's Game of Thrones. While the battle at the end of "Hardhome" was as good as anything on TV this year, everything else remained uneven. That we've now reached the end of the books (mostly) leads me to believe that it might "free" the show to a degree. We'll see.
*Orphan Black should make the list if just for the strength of its subtle feminist undertones and Tatiana Maslany's continuously great performance, but it's not quite enough to pull up everything else.
Archer rebounded from its uneven "Vice" season, but is still a bit off from its peak. The same could be said for It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, but there were moments (notably "Charlie Work") that closely resembled the show at its best. Girls gained some energy by temporarily sending Hannah to Iowa, but still can't quite figure out how to balance everyone else in a meaningful way. It feels like a billion years since New Girl was on (blame Zooey Deschanel's baby), but the back half of season four figured a few things out. Fresh Off the Boat turned into one of the most unique things on TV, in large part because they did a really good job casting the kids. Brooklyn 99 continued to be a very good show, but never quite a great one. Togetherness showed a lot of signs of becoming something great, but didn't do enough to stand out from the glut of half-hour dramedies. Comedy Central kept firing on all cylinders with Another Period, Natasha Leggero and Riki Lindhome's satirical take on Downtown Abbey. With Bob and David never quite matched the highs of Mr. Show but was quite a welcome sight nonetheless. Children's Hospital is still the same show it's always been, and is thus good.
Finally, 7 Days in Hell was awesome and hilarious (ie. devoting like 10% of its running time to an aside on courtroom sketch artists), but a 45-minute short can't quite hold up to the depth of everything else on this list.
GOOD SHOWS THAT JUST MISSED
I ended up with 37 shows on my final list, but I'm not writing that many capsules, so here's the ones that I had to painfully omit. Married made a jump in its second season, which nonetheless wasn't enough to save it from cancellation. The Yahoo Screen season of Community didn't reach the heights of earlier seasons, but it was still appropriately weird, and ended on a lovely, bittersweet note. Orange is the New Black continued to suffer from bloat, but still told unique, important stories as only it can. The cultural zeitgeist finally caught up with Inside Amy Schumer, giving us one of the finest seasons of sketch comedy in a strong era for the format. WGN's Manhattan trimmed some of its narrative fat while adding urgency in moving its timeline up, making for a surprisingly thrilling sophomore campaign. Certain episodes of Last Man on Earth (The Pilot, the second season premiere) told a moving and clever story about isolation and self-reliance. The rest was....OK (but I do think the show has improved overall in its second season).
Bob's Burgers continued to be one of the most joyous things on the air. The latest seasons suffer a bit from both age and a relative limitation of storylines (there's only so much a middle-class family can do, even one as resourceful as the Belchers). Still, I will happily watch this show forever. Deutschland 83 served as a nice parallel to The Americans, taking us through a similar journey, but in a different place and with a not-as-willing spy. Plus, it had the best theme song of the year. The Returned came back strong from its hiatus, as moody and existential as ever. However, the problems I had with it's first season finale (over-complicatedness, symbolism overtaking reality) continued to grow. It's still great, just not quite as tight as it was. Getting On closed out its final season with a bittersweet whimper, which is of course the perfect ending for what was an understated look at the lives of the marginalized and forgotten. Mr. Robot was a thrilling take on the modern world of technology and privacy, with a deft undercurrent about the fundamental inability to understand others that gave the show its soul. And the final, most painful exclusion goes to Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, a wonderful advertisement for the value of sheer exuberance. Artisanal ice and pinot noir for everyone!
THE ACTUAL LIST FINALLY THANK GOD
#25 - Silicon Valley (HBO)
The second season of Silicon Valley was a natural progression from its great debut season. That is to say that it kept what worked (raunchy humor, paying attention to the minutiae of the tech world) and added some layers to it. An idiot investor, a new business strategy, and an actual female programmer helped to (literally) diversify the show and improve upon what was already a great comedy.
#24 - Hannibal (NBC)
Following what was an all-time great season of television, the third season of Hannibal could have been the point at which the show crawled too far up its own posterior. And while there were indications of that at times (spending half the season catching Hannibal when he wasn't really hiding), the performances and the beauty were still enough to keep me hooked. The constant themes of good vs. evil, nature vs. nurture, and artist vs. his/her work still played our in the same fashion, whether through the ongoing Will/Hannibal love story, or through the Red Dragon arc. We probably won't get to see the full story of Brian Fuller's Hannibal through to its natural conclusion, but that we got it this far remains one of the most unexpected and glorious occurrences of the decade.
#23 - Broad City (Comedy Central)
via GIPHY
That GIF pretty much says it all, but here's a few more words. Our nation's finest buddy comedy picked up where it left off, as ridiculous and hilarious as ever. Ilana earns her reputation as the wilder of the two, but Abbi was the MVP of this season, as her adventures with pain-killers, pegging, and speakeasies were the highlights. The time spent fleshing out Bevers, Trey, and Kelly Ripa (?) led to a slightly less focused effort, but that doesn't mean this show isn't still the bee's knees.
#22 - Catastrophe (Amazon)
There is very little inherently revolutionary in Catastrophe, but it's still a revolutionary program in its own way. Sure, Rob Delaney and Sharon Horgan are refreshingly hilarious and real as a couple brought together through a surprise pregnancy, but all of that takes place in a fairly straightforward show. In actuality, what makes Catastrophe such a mold-breaker is how it flips the context: By stripping everything down and ignoring the high-concept premises that typically dominate modern romantic comedy, Catastrophe is able to re-invent the genre through sheer simplicity. Just the idea of a sudden cross-continent romance borne out of necessity would normally dominate such a comedy, but by treating the adults as...well, adults, Catastrophe is able to build something worthwhile. Mundane occurrences like arguments, doctor's visits, and awkward encounters with friends are the reality that most people would face in such a situation. By making that the crux of the show, Catastrophe is able to project an authenticity that makes an otherwise slight show well worth the time.
#21 - Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp (Netflix)
First Day is the best argument yet for the viability of revivals. It managed to take the skeleton of the movie and create something new and worthwhile, while still remaining true to the spirit of the original. Sure, the transition resulted in a little bloat, but when it was at its best, First Day delivered some of the most lasting and unique laughs of the year. I mean, we got an origin story for a can of vegetables. What more could you want?
#20 - Better Call Saul (AMC)
If the first season of Better Call Saul had simply extended the world of Breaking Bad and continued to bring us the visual stylings of Vince Gilligan and friends, that would have probably been enough to make this list. But the work the show did in turning the relatively one-dimensional Saul Goodman into the multi-layered Jimmy McGill makes it far more than a simple knock-off of the original. Whether it was the painstaking time the show took to display the tedium of his life, or the cast of characters he met along the way*, Better Call Saul provided an in-depth look into exactly what who Jimmy/Saul is, and why his story matters. While I don't think Better Call Saul will spend its entire run leading up to the creation of its eponymous character, the first season shows us one of the primary benefits of Peak TV; a brilliant show-runner and his team gets the necessary time to tell the story they want without sacrificing a single detail.
*Julie Ann Emery as Betsy Kettleman is probably the finest bit part of the year in terms of both acting and character conception. Note to AMC: There is probably room in your schedule for "Keeping up with the Kettlemans."
#19 - The Knick (Cinemax)
The Knick is a very good TV show for TV's new golden age. Everyone winds up unhappier and their lives worse, and it's unpleasant to witness.
— Big Santa Jeb! Lund (@Mobute) October 4, 2015
For most shows, it's easy to determine their position on the episodic/serialization spectrum. The Knick is not one of those shows. It generally does not focus on the overlapping themes that make up episodic shows, nor the central, fast-moving storylines that characterize most heavily serialized shows. Instead, The Knick is pure immersion therapy. Soderbergh and company pull the viewer into the bizarre world of the early 1900s through a combination of amazing direction and sheer horror. The Knick is rarely explicitly dreamlike, but is often able to achieve the same effect through its unique orientation. The raw explicitness of the overt racism, brazen criminality, and (most notably) the quasi-experimental medical work serves to embed the viewer in a reality far removed from modern society. And that itself is what The Knick seems to be aiming for. Other shows want to say specific things and convey messages; The Knick is content to just throw you into its world and see what happens.#18 - Veep (HBO)
"The rule book’s been torn up now and America’s wiping its nasty ass with it" - President Meyer
The fourth season of Veep could have easily been a mess. Selina spent the season balancing time between her new office and the campaign to stay in it. Hugh Laurie came onboard as the running mate and added his own set of complications to the mix. And Amy and Dan were both gone from Selina's team and yet still helplessly in orbit around her. Fortunately, if there's one show that can funnel chaos and insanity into the sharpest half-hour on TV, Veep is it. And as a result of all this chaos, we were treated to best season of Veep yet.
#17 - Louie (FX)
If nothing else, the fifth season of Louie proved that Louis C.K. doesn't need to constantly explore the frontiers of television to make wholly original work. Following his most ambitious season yet in terms of both scope and intimacy, there was a bit of curse of expectations hanging over this year's abbreviated eight-episode run. Thankfully, C.K forwent the unattainable goal of somehow topping that and returned to the simpler ethos of earlier seasons, enabling him to create his freest and loosest season yet. Between the nightmare world of "Untitled," Michael Rappaport's tragicomic guest spot in "Cop Story," and a typically odd road trip to close out the season, Louie was just as essential as ever...
#16 - Master of None (Netflix)
...which makes Master of None...essential-er? Not just because Aziz Ansari and Alan Yang's semi-biographical work was as much a triumph of form or as peculiar and surreal as Louie. Rather, Master of None was great because of its point of view: inclusive, diverse, hopeful, scared, and most of all, young. Both shows tell rather small, intimate stories about just a few characters at a time, but Master of None is ever so slightly more special because of the freshness and universality of its approach. I identified with this show as much as anything else this year, largely because it's specifically designed to be just that engaging and warm.
#15 - Fargo (FX)
I wouldn't call FARGO the best show of the year, but it might be the best-*made* show of the year. Breathtaking stuff throughout.
— James Poniewozik (@poniewozik) December 15, 2015
The second season of Fargo pulled me in many different directions. It's as beautiful and well acted as anything anywhere. It deals with potent themes with a deft touch, whether it be the transition into the Reagan era, or the very nature of existence. And given the potential overbearing darkness of its grim storyline, it has the good sense to stay playful and not take itself too seriously. So why didn't I love it as much as the first season? I suppose it could be because that season was inspired by two of my very favorite Coen Brothers' films, while this one wasn't.* That said, I think the main reason is a little less superficial than that. Critic Mo Ryan sums it up well: The emotional gives way to the technical. Things happen and they're spectacular, but I never quite felt the impact of those events in the way I do with other shows. This isn't to say that the more removed viewpoint of Fargo isn't appreciated (it might be appropriate given the Midwestern setting). It's just that there's other programs that manage to pull everything together in a way that makes for more effective drama.*The poster from season one is such a strong thematic connector, that nothing in season two could have realistically lived up to it. The aliens were a nice try, though.
#14 - The Americans (FX)
If asked to summon thoughts of The Americans to my mind, the first word that comes to mind is "merciless." That is, in its depiction of the world of spycraft, the show doesn't sugarcoat anything or let anyone off the hook. That alone isn't what makes it great, though, as a lot of shows are just as merciless as The Americans. But where it succeeds and those other shows fail (Hi there Game of Thrones!) is that The Americans doesn't let that lack of mercy slip into sadism. Sure, the third season gave us numerous horrors: bodies in suitcases, late-night basement dentistry, the slow painful death of a witness to the Jennings' espionage.* But those events never exist in and of themselves; rather they are the natural, direct results of the character's actions, and the consequences are never simply shaken off or used solely to drive the plot. By taking what could be (and occasionally is) an action packed story and making it a more intimate, personal affair, The Americans remains one of the best dramas on television.
*This is aa good place for a best episode list, even though it's impossible to make one this year:
1. "Do Mail Robots Dream of Electric Sheep" - The Americans
2. "No Room at the Inn" - The Leftovers
3. "Kina Hora" - Transparent
4. "Escape from L.A." - Bojack Horseman
5. "Leslie and Ron" - Parks and Recreation
#13 - You're the Worst (FXX)
You're the Worst was still an incredibly funny show in its second season. Just drown out the chorus of people who claim otherwise by belting out "New Phone, Who Dis" at top volume. What did change is the focus on the beautiful, unsparing way it dealt with Gretchen's depression and Jimmy's subsequent reaction. Such a lateral move is risky (especially for a show that was on the cancellation bubble), but it more than paid off with as authentic of a depiction of the illness as we've seen on television. Not every storyline worked to perfection (Edgar's improv romance was certainly earned, but was also a little one-note), but on the whole, You're the Worst is one of the most purely enjoyable and relatable things around.
#12 - Mad Men (AMC)
Mad Men is sort of the odd man out of the shows typically included in the "anti-hero" era of drama. For one, Don Draper isn't a killer; he's certainly not a pleasant influence on those around him, but that's a far lesser sin than those of Vic Mackey and the likes. Even more importantly, Mad Men worked harder than most of those shows to grant an understanding of what led Don to be so broken. Sure, we understand why Tony Soprano and Walter White do what they do, but for the most part, their stories are presented at face value. Mad Men, on the other hand, was eternally focused on and completely structured around, as the show would say, "the pain from an old wound." Doing the character of Don Draper justice would take much longer than a single paragraph, so I'll just leave it at saying that Mad Men might have created the most fully realized character in television history.* That's an accomplishment on par with anything. What a show.
*In this context, I view the ending as the natural end to the story of the central internal turmoil of Don Draper. This isn't to say that everything is perfect for the remainder of his life. Instead, Don is able to finally accept himself as the Don he has created, and move forward with his life in a positive manner. I honestly think it's one of the best endings ever.
#11 - Show Me a Hero (HBO)
For all of David Simon's strengths, none are as great as the ruthless economy of his storytelling. This skill is on full display in Show Me a Hero, the miniseries that chronicles the real-life protracted battle to build subsidized housing in Yonkers three decades ago. Given the breadth of the storyline (which includes a window into several of the residents that would eventually move into the housing), it's a testament to Simon's efficiency that the story is able to resonate at all, let alone with so much depth.
What is served best by this is the characterization of the main protagonist, Mayor Nick Wasickso (played with a perfect mixture of bravado and vulnerability by Oscar Isaac). In the first two hours of the show, the story takes us through every aspect of the political machinations that led to this particular situation. This flies by at such a pace that the concluding conversation with a constituent shines a light on what the flurry of activity was concealing: In spite of all the ambition we see from the country's youngest mayor, we really have no idea what's underneath Nick's exterior, and what drives him to achieve political gain. This "emperor has no clothes" moment (as well as the title of the show) helps to foreshadow his downfall and the emptiness he feels as a result. This theme of the perils of following a singular focus to it's extreme outcome reminds me almost exactly of something I wrote about Breaking Bad upon its conclusion. There, I said that one of the most resounding "lessons" of Breaking Bad wasn't that Walter was inherently evil, but that his singular focus had warped his actions and helped to create a monster. We don't see the same extreme in Show Me a Hero (as it's a much different show), but the same idea underscores Wasickso's storyline from start to finish. In this, and many other ways, David Simon is once again able to do so much within a relatively simple method of storytelling.
#10 - Parks and Recreation (NBC)
As happens with any beloved long-running show, there were a number of complaints about the finale of Parks and Recreation. While I fully understand those arguments, Parks is still prominent on this list for two main reasons: One, the first 12 episodes represented the best run since the show's DiMaggio-like streak from seasons 2-4. Series highlights such as "Leslie and Ron" and April and Andy's visit to Werner Herzog's house showcased the balancing act between goofy and heartfelt that the show mastered as well as any. Two, I actually really liked the finale. Sure, it might have been overly sentimental and wrapped things up a little neatly. But Parks is a bit unique in that all the characters seem to be outsized versions of the personalities of the actors portraying them. Seen through this lens, the finale isn't just saying goodbye to the fictional world of Pawnee, but to seven years of collaboration between a group with a near-unprecedented combination of talent and chemistry. That deserves a victory lap.
#9 - Justified (FX)
While plenty of praise was heaped upon Justified during its final run, it still feels as though the show was treated as being a step below the most famous dramas of its time. Sure, it's not The Wire, but neither is any other show. If we appreciate Justified for what it was, then we can probably all agree that it was one of the best collections of talent, writing, and story ever seen on the small screen. The final season shook off the malaise of the previous season, and turned in what was probably the fullest 13 episodes of the show, if not the best*. The cavalcade of bad guys all had their turns (poor Choo-Choo), but didn't overcrowd the central story with Raylan, Ava, and Boyd. Add in nice moments from Loretta, Tim, and even Winona, and it's easy to see Justified did an amazing job of balancing a great stand-alone final season while remaining focused on settling old scores. So many great shows ended their runs in 2015, but there's something unique about the Elmore Leonard-ian universe of Justified that just might make it the most memorable casualty.
*That said, I'll go 2 > 6 > 4 > 3 > 1 >>> 5, but you could probably convince me to switch 3 and 4 around.
#8 - Review (Comedy Central)
"Life: You're already living it. Ain't it great?" - AJ Gibbs
The first season of Review was a rare bird. As a supremely hilarious entity (Racism: Half a star) born of a perfectly executed high-concept premise, Review was very deserving of such lofty praise. But the same high-wire act that made the show great also threatened to doom it. After the seemingly perfect end to the story of Forrest MacNeil and the show within the show, how could Review further justify its existence? Well, as we learned in the first ten minutes of the second-season premiere, it did so by doubling down on everything. Yes, that means he almost gets murdered.
Absurdity aside, Review also worked as a meditation on the nature of evil. The machinations of the show's producer Grant became more complex than they were in the first season, while we dealt in more detail with what drives Forrest to ruin his life in the name of evaluating it. The show makes myriad references to Forrest being a monster. That it's difficult to envision the smiling visage of Forrest MacNeil as a monster is indeed part of the whole point: Evil in the real world isn't the sneering image we see horror movies. Rather, it's defined by one's actions and the lack of consideration for others that informs those actions. Whether or not the show adds further layers to this in future seasons**, Review has already done enough to be considered one of the best comedies of all time.
*So here's my idea for a third season, not that anyone asked. Forrest and Grant survive, and we see Grant cursing off Forrest and saying he quits as producer. Forrest returns and produces the show himself, only selecting pleasant things to review. Unfortunately for him, things continue to go poorly. This causes him to question his lifestyle, and finally confront the fact that it is him alone that is the cause of all of his misery as well as the misery of those around him. Then in the penultimate episode, he spies Grant from a distance. As it turns out, Grant has been sabotaging Forrest all season as revenge for almost killing him. This emboldens Forrest to continue with his reviews, starting the cycle all over again. This would be so dark and so fun.
#7 - Banshee (Cinemax)
Banshee most certainly earns its reputation as a pulpy throwback to the action-packed cheese of decades past. But the sheer inventiveness of how this all is done rises above the shows' inspiration into something truly original. Some of this creativity is obvious: A robbery is filmed entirely through closed circuit cameras, an episode is dedicated to a harrowing siege on a police station, a fight sequence that should have killed each character several times over carries on through its brutal conclusion. But the creativity that elevates Banshee beyond mere spectacle is the same as what is seen in dramas of the "prestige" ilk - that is, finding novel ways to illuminate the human condition. Take for example the regret and despair Hood feels after the fallout of the siege. Rather than deal with it through clumsy exposition, Banshee retreats all the way to the very beginning of the story. In that inspired episode, Hood retraces his steps to imagine a world where he never became involved in the affairs of this town. Through this, we are able to understand his pain and how he manages to cope with it. Banshee may be a flashy, thrill-a-minute program, but the depth below its shiny exterior made it one of the best things of 2015.
#6 - Rectify (Sundance)
When asked for television recommendations, there are few shows I go to bat for more than Rectify. Aside from the superficial reasons (it's on Netflix, it's just 22 episodes over 3 seasons), the show's sense of grace and compassion for all its characters represents a soulful vision rarely seen anywhere else. At the same time, the very nature of a show that conveys such things is inherently a hard sell. The subtle ways that Rectify tells the story of the transition in its character's lives rarely lead to the big, memorable moments from other programs. And yet, there's a power in the small moments (Amantha sharing her story with strangers, an awkward dinner where Janet blends the memory of her son and her effectively adopted son, and Ted Jr. sitting in a truck talking about the origin of his relationship with Tawny) that's just as real as the big moments. More than anything else on television, Rectify represents the best part of Peak TV, in that a small, unconventional narrative can find its place and flourish.
#5 - Bojack Horseman (Netflix)
That screenshot from the second season trailer of Bojack Horseman gets at part of the road-block that prevents some from realizing it's one of the best things on TV. Bojack is all at once many seemingly incongruent things: A fierce industry satire, a zany comedy, and a surreal universe where animals are basically people except when they're not. But what elevates it above all that is its unique take on depression and how it can relate to one's vocation. To start the season, we find Bojack playing his dream role of Secretariat. Yet, what was supposed to be a career-affirming opportunity turns into another source of frustration and angst, which leaves Bojack and those around him clinging to whatever they can. The journeys the characters take, ranging from forlorn (Diane) to comical (Todd), all serve to underscore the central message that happiness is less a destination and more a moving target. Finding fulfillment in the world rarely comes from following a straight path, and the plight of a cartoon horse might be the best window into that truth. Television is great.
#4 - Last Week Tonight (HBO)
Stephen Colbert famously began The Colbert Report with a monologue on "truthiness," the concept that something is factual just because one feels it is. Sadly, that episode was as prescient as anything Colbert has ever done, as our political discourse has stooped to the point where this is essentially one party's entire M.O. Luckily, there are still those who value facts, as well as those who can make us laugh when the facts are entirely too depressing. John Oliver is of course both of those things, and as a result, his show is as vital as anything else on today. The combination of topics both timely (mental health, the week after every pro-gun politician used it as a crutch to avoid discussing gun control) and under-reported (the inadequacy of public defenders) often makes for a stimulating and educating half-hour, performed in a palatable and yet merciless manner. With Stewart done with the nightly beat and Colbert moving on up, John Oliver is now our elder statesman of late-night outrage, and we couldn't possibly be in better hands.
#3 - Looking (HBO)
When compared with most modern television, Looking is relatively laid back and free-flowing. It's also purposefully small, focusing on just a half-dozen main characters and contrasting those characters with their environs (ie. the picture above). Meanwhile, the most lauded dramatic shows are generally the opposite, crafted with BIG MOMENTS to evoke precisely the BIG MESSAGES contained within. It almost seems that modern art forms condition us to take things at face value unless there's something remarkable enough to take us out of that mindset. As a result, it's easy to mistake the structure of shows like Looking as not being conducive to a strong over-arching theme. In spite of this, many "smaller" shows are able to achieve a thematic resonance just as strong as the heavy hitters. And no show is better at making the small things sublime as Looking.
So then, just what was Looking ultimately trying to say? It's too rich of a show for any one theme to summarize everything, but to me, Looking was the foremost televisual authority on the implications of pure honesty (or the lack thereof). Whatever the faults of Patrick, Agustin, and Dom, they were rarely shy to communicate their feelings with each other and those around them. This shared trait served to ultimately strengthen their existing relationships and push away many newer acquaintances, especially when those acquaintances were less than honest. The contrast of how honesty can both hurt (Patrick and Kevin's final argument) and help (everyone commiserating in "Looking for a Plot") underscores the fundamental balancing act that real human connection requires as convincingly as anything. For it's ability to do this, and so much more, Looking will be sorely missed.
#2 - Transparent (Amazon)
Transparent is a story about a family that would, in other hands, be unlikely to earn sympathy. On the surface, it's easy to paint the Pfeffermans as insular and spoiled, but Jill Soloway covers every inch of her show with empathy and understanding such that we see and know what informs every character's action. How does Transparent manage all of this in five short hours? The quality of the performances certainly helps, and the writing is sharp without veering into caricature. But the very best strength of the show may be the light and nimble manner in which it tells its story. Scenes last only as long as they need to; it's difficult to get "tired of" anything, because the show moves along to the next storyline. The show breathes life into an idea and then lets it extinguish itself as it would in reality. This technique creates an almost dreamlike, Malick-esque world at times, which elevates the show into the sublime. Moments both quiet and loud get their due, and make for a beautiful and accessible balance.
Of course, the streamlining skips over a few things, and not everything works as well as it should (for example, Maura and Shelly's brief reunion has its moments, but is a little undercooked). But that complaint feels like extreme nit-picking for a show that successfully deals with so much in relatively little time. By getting to the core of each scene and interaction, the show is able to tell its story without dragging out anything unnecessarily. Concurrently, the spare manner in which scenes are constructed leaves room for a quiet moment of interpretation. When things go unsaid or feeling are left underexplored, this allows the viewer to connect the dots and he or she sees fit. This isn't to say that shows should use this reasoning as a crutch to explain away incomplete characterizations or storytelling. Rather, when a show creates a tapestry as rich as Transparent does, it gives it the freedom to tell the story it wants in whatever manner it wants. More than any other show on right now, Transparent knows exactly what its vision is and executes that vision to perfection.
#1 - The Leftovers (HBO)
Television is a fascinating medium in large part because of the necessity of evolution over the course of a multi-season series. A show that continues to do the same thing over and over will almost certainly fail, either turning into a pale imitation of itself or becoming so repetitive that it makes itself inessential. In particular, the changes a show makes between its first and second season are the most informative, as it takes the original idea the creators had in mind, and adds whatever ideas come from the experience of sharing that idea with an audience. This was a banner year for such seasons, as nearly half of this list qualifies as such. But no show reinvented itself so completely and purposefully as did The Leftovers. Because of that it is easily my favorite show of the year.
The first season of The Leftovers was uneven, but highlighted by its standalone episodes (most notably, "Guest"). The second season was smartly nothing but such episodes, with at the very least helped with some of the odd tonal imbalances that came with bouncing back and forth between the Guilty Remnant and normal life. But more than just being a simple change the format, the single focus episodes allowed for a deeper and even more spiritual examination of each characters' pain and the source thereof. Do we understand Kevin's illness, Matt's frustrations, or Nora's anxiety without digging deep into each of their minds? Are we able to envision a path out, or understand what anyone could have left to live for? I doubt that a traditional approach would have given us the resonance and the beauty that The Leftovers gave us this year. And it certainly wouldn't have "let the mystery be."
