The Best A24 TV Shows, Ranked

A show so widely derided, it may very well have played a hand in Euphoria’s suspiciously lengthy hiatus, Sam Levinson’s self-consciously sexy series about a pop star (Lily-Rose Depp) who enters a boundary-crossing relationship with a nightclub owner / cult leader (Abel Tesfaye, a.k.a. The Weeknd) was more than deserving of all the bad press it received upon its release. Flashes of a more interesting show are buried in Levinson and Tesfaye’s dreck, a show that could have more thoroughly fleshed out Depp’s character and paid closer attention to some of its most interesting supporting characters, Xander (Troye Sivan), Leia (Rachel Sennott), and Dee (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) — but instead we were left with nonsensical plot twists and Tesfaye’s less-than-stellar acting. At least we’ll always have “World Class Sinner / I’m A Freak,” a faux-pop song with a legitimately catchy hook. 

The success story of how Hazbin Hotel came to be a full-fledged, Prime-distributed series from a smash-hit YouTube pilot is almost endearing enough to compel me not to put it this low. And yet, the series itself is too wildly jumbled and self-indulgent to really cohere into an enjoyable watch. Following a princess of Hell in her attempts to establish a hotel that will rehabilitate its denizens, Hazbin repeatedly fails to employ unique character design, continually leaves plot points dangling, and contains a whole lot of cringeworthy dialogue. What it does have going for it, sheer ambition aside, is its musical numbers, which more often than not, are redeeming moments in each episode.

Tim Heidecker, Fred Armisen, and John C. Reilly play a trio of bungling, inert astronauts in a fake moonbase, which on paper seems to be a recipe for a critical smash hit. And yet, the result is unfortunately quite tepid. What brings some life to the whole enterprise is its guest stars, which include Alia Shawkat, Adam Lambert, and Thomas Mann as young, hip SpaceX visitors, as well as Travis Kelce playing himself in some genuinely funny stunt casting. Despite these bright spots, much of the rest of the show is generally unremarkable.

Despite being one of the most discussed shows of the last five years, propelling actors such as Jacob Elordi, Sydney Sweeney, and Hunter Schafer to stardom, Euphoria too frequently falls victim to its creator’s predilections for graphic sexuality and violence, fantasy-infused setpieces, flashy camerawork, and hot-button issues — all of which leads to a plot that can feel paper-thin at times. The main cast — Zendaya, Schafer, Elordi, and Sweeney, in particular — routinely turn in excellent performances, and when the show narrows its focus a bit, as in its heart-pounding episode following Rue (Zendaya) on the run, and its moving special centered around Jules (Schafer) in therapy, it can be legitimately great. Too bad all of that gets drowned out by strobe lighting and glitter most of the time.

While Ziwe has courted a fair amount of controversy in recent months for interviewing scandalous former Representative George Santos, there’s no denying that her two-season talk show, centered around her confrontational and satirical interviewing style, was strikingly singular in tone, design, and purpose. Her interviews, with subjects from Andrew Yang to Chet Hanks,  catch even the most seasoned celebrities off guard in a way that is refreshing at best, and awkward at worst. Despite much of the non-interview content feeling extraneous to the show, Ziwe’s sheer force of personality makes much more of it work than it should.

The newest A24-backed TV offering, this limited series is tailor-made for prestige: based on an Pulitzer-winning novel, directed by South Korean auteur Park Chan-Wook, and featuring no less than four (!) supporting performances from Robert Downey Jr., recently minted Oscar winner. There’s much to love about The Sympathizer outside of these signifiers though, particularly relative newcomer Hoa Xuande’s lead performance as the constantly adrift Captain and the unexpected well of pitch-black comedy bubbling up beneath Park and Co.’s brisk plotting. While a bit of tonal unevenness and occasional heavy-handedness from Downey Jr. stops the series short of being a home run, I still find myself looking forward to the next episode.

Ruthlessly funny and autobiographical in the truest sense, Kat Sadler’s black comedy about family trauma, codependency, and some serious dysfunction stars Sadler as Josie, a suicidal and unmotivated 20-something who shares a house with her sister, Billie (played by Sadler’s real-life sister Lizzie Davidson) and domineering mother Deb (Louise Brealey). While the comedy is pointedly cruel and the performances are razor-sharp, Such Brave Girls can’t help but operate under the shadow of many, many other series centering around similar themes and a somewhat autobiographical lens — Fleabag, Girls, Feel Good, among others — which tends to make Sadler’s show feel somewhat repetitive.

Avid Netflix watchers might most readily recognize Michelle Buteau as the voice behind the platform’s hit reality program The Circle, but what she should be known for is as co-creator and star of this hidden gem series, based on Buteau’s memoir and centered around a plus-size stylist reeling after a breakup with a long-term partner. While Buteau is the beating heart of the show, balancing humor with the effects of heartbreak, the supporting cast is also stellar, with Tone Bell and Tasha Smith turning in winning performances of two ride-or-dies in every sense of the word.

Trying to make it in entertainment, especially while not coming from connections, not being white, and being broke is undeniably harrowing. Here, co-creator and star Adjani Salmon infuses this struggle with a healthy dose of surreality and humor to make a uniquely compelling series that draws from many influences while being definitively unlike anything else on television. Much of the show is centered around the day-to-day microaggressions that Kwabena (Salmon), his romantic interest Vanessa (Babirye Bukilwa), his brother Maurice (Demmy Ladipo), and his sister-in-law Funmi (Rachel Adedeji) struggle with in the workplace, which lends the series a distinct anti-capitalist lens a la Boots Riley’s series I’m A Virgo. With that said, Salmon’s focus on the distinct struggles of Black Brits and the entertainment industry is specific enough to make this a thoroughly enjoyable watch.

While Jerrod Carmichael might now be better known for his undefinable reality series Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show, brief appearance in last year’s Poor Things, and hosting gig at the Golden Globes, he was first introduced to most audiences as the co-creator, co-writer, producer, and star of this NBC sitcom. While being constructed as a traditional multi-camera sitcom, Carmichael proves especially adept at addressing controversial topics such as consent, the war on terror, and gun violence while also maintaining the show’s comedic sensibilities throughout — and on cable, no less! Even though The Carmichael Show was canceled in Season 3, despite that season receiving the best reviews yet, the program played a significant role in introducing fresh talents such as Carmichael, Tiffany Haddish, and Lil Rel Howery to mainstream audiences.

Based on Olivier Assayas’s film of the same name, which starred Maggie Cheung, this miniseries now has Alicia Vikander as the actress coming to France to tackle the titular role. Vikander for her part is entirely game, playing her character as a woman exhausted by her sudden blockbuster fame, which Assayas mines for clever comedy. While the meta-narrative of the actress playing the actress who finds herself struggling in the production of a remake, while the show Irma Vep is itself a remake, may seem unbearably Peak TV and pretentious, Assayas effectively pokes fun at the whole enterprise — prestige television, remakes, filmmaking as a whole — while never making the audience feel like they’re wasting their time.

It appears as though semi-autobiographical comedies are a recurrent theme in A24 TV productions, yet Mo, starring Mo Amer as a Palestinian refugee in his struggles to attain citizenship in the U.S. stands out for its sharp writing, unapologetic performances, and deep ties to its setting of Houston, Texas. Several uniquely American experiences lead to the show’s funniest moments, such as Mo getting hired as a DJ at a strip club after losing his job, getting grazed by a bullet at a supermarket shooting (where his mother is more upset finding out about his tattoo than his wound), and a brief dependency on lean, a drug synonymous with Houston culture. While these experiences may come across dark and gritty, Mo frames them as vaguely comedic aspects of the American experience, aspects Mo, his family, and his friends tackle each episode with warmth and humor.

Deeply strange to the point of being actively unsettling is Nathan Fielder’s wheelhouse, and it is a wheelhouse he remains firmly within in The Curse, a series following Whitney (Emma Stone) and Asher Siegel (Fielder) as hosts of an HGTV series on eco-conscious housing in the community of Espanola, New Mexico. Fielder, best known for his work on The Rehearsal and Nathan For You, is perfectly complemented by Stone and co-creator Benny Safdie, who plays a sleazy producer, in this excavation of, among other things, white guilt, reality television, virtue signaling, and cultural appropriation. Each episode is chock-full of moments where one can either laugh, squirm, or cover their eyes in second-hand embarrassment, and while the finale may feel as though it’s out of left field, somehow it makes perfect sense.

Ramy Youssef had a banner six months in late 2023 and early 2024, starring in the widely acclaimed Poor Things and releasing an HBO stand-up special, More Feelings. However, arguably his greatest work has been on Ramy, as co-creator, writer, oftentimes director, and star of this series, which follows an Egyptian-American family in New Jersey, all of whom frequently struggle with their faith as devout Muslims, Islamophobia in the wake of 9/11, and the financial realities of modern-day America. Featuring several excellent performances, including but not limited to Hiam Abbass of Succession fame as Ramy’s mother, Oscar winner Mahershala Ali as an even-keeled sheikh, and May Calamawy as Ramy’s sister, the series excels at depicting the modern Arab-American experience as well as critiquing less-than-ideal practices within the very same community — much of which is expressed through the frustrating double standards Calamawy’s character is subjected to. And kudos to Ramy Youssef, for not being afraid in the slightest of portraying his fictional Ramy Hassan as being arguably one of the most grating protagonists on TV.

Oscillating between comedy, drama, and thriller, featuring deeply surreal diversions, and a pair of highly unlikeable leads in Danny (Steven Yeun) and Amy (Ali Wong), Beef nonetheless became a bona fide hit — and for good reason. Created by Lee Sung Jin, the series follows a well-off business owner (Wong) and a struggling contractor (Yeun) who use a minor road rage incident as fuel for their own personal furies, escalating their feud to truly diabolical heights. It doesn’t hurt that the show features stunning visuals, a killer ’90s-inflected soundtrack, and profound reflections on Asian-American identity. And while the trippy ending seems definitive for Danny and Amy’s journey, the ongoing critical and commercial success of Beef, rumors of a potential second season starring Jake Gyllenhaal, Anne Hathaway, Cailee Spaeny, and Charles Melton in a couple’s feud has fans in eager anticipation.