The Best TV Shows of 2025: These Are the Top Series of the Year

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Ignacio Weil

Entertainment - December 11th 2025, 23:30 GMT+1

15. Dying for Sex

Life’s harder curveballs don’t always come with a "how to survive" manual – and *Dying for Sex* punches that idea in the face. The series follows Molly, diagnosed with terminal metastatic breast cancer, who decides not to wait around: she abandons her marriage and dives headfirst into a raw, unfiltered journey of self-discovery, desire and urgency. What hits hardest isn’t the illness itself, but the way the show treats Molly’s sexuality as her final act of agency – messy, beautiful, awkward and deeply human. The performances don’t shy away from discomfort: you laugh, cringe, maybe even wince – but you feel alive watching it. There’s no glamorized redemption, just a radical insistence that pleasure, autonomy and self-definition matter, even – especially – when time is borrowed. It makes you ask yourself what living fully really means when the end is so near. | © 20th Television

Cropped common side effects — 14. Common Side Effects

What happens when a cartoon decides to trip you out instead of tickling you? That’s the weird ride *Common Side Effects* takes you on — a psychedelic, darkly comic swirl where big-pharma paranoia meets surreal animation and conspiracy-thriller twists. Two old high-school friends reconnect after one uncovers a miraculous “Blue Angel Mushroom” that supposedly cures everything – and from there, the series detonates into absurdity, existential dread, and a surprisingly sharp critique of greed, health and hope. The tone flips constantly: sometimes it’s absurd to the point of cosmic horror, other times it’s heartbreaking. But it never pretends to be safe entertainment. Characters feel real enough to care about, even when reality itself starts to bend. It’s the kind of show that makes you question your trust in mushrooms, medicine – and maybe everything. | © Green Street Pictures

The Chair Company cropped processed by imagy — 13. The Chair Company

Comedy in 2025 is getting weirder, sharper — and *The Chair Company* is living proof. The series doesn’t settle for gentle jokes or sitcom comfort; instead it spins a narrative of growing paranoia, escalating absurdity, and the kind of comedy that wriggles under your skin long after you finish an episode. There's a tension there that sneaks up on you: familiar suburban banter turns strange, laughter becomes uneasy, and by the time you realize what’s happening, you're leaning forward, unsettled in the best way. It’s not always easy or pretty, but that’s kind of the point. Humor becomes a tool for discomfort, and discomfort becomes the kind of comedy that sticks. If you’re in the mood for laughs with an edge – the kind that make you think while you wince – this is the ride. | © HBO

Wolf Hall The Mirror and the Light cropped processed by imagy — 12. Wolf Hall: The Mirror and the Light

Historical drama doesn’t often feel fresh —–and yet *Wolf Hall: The Mirror and the Light* somehow makes the Tudor court pulse with life. The political maneuvers, betrayals, courtly intrigue feel vivid and alive, not dusty or distant. Characters draw swords – physically and verbally – but the stakes are human: ambition, loyalty, fear, survival. Every conversation crackles with subtext: alliances formed in whispers, loyalties bought and broken. The setting may be 16th-century England, but the power plays feel timeless, as if the same games are being replayed in boardrooms or back-hallway meetings today. It’s a reminder that politics, history, and the human capacity for intrigue don’t age – they just change costumes. Watching this series, you remember why storytelling rooted in real stakes still hits hardest. | © BBC

Long Story Short Season 1 — 11. Long Story Short

Family is rarely tidy and *Long Story Short* leans into that mess with both arms wide open, framing its tale in non-linear sequences that shuffle years, memories, and regrets like shuffled cards. As you follow a middle-class family navigating love, secrets, disappointments and little victories, the timeline keeps looping – forcing you to piece together what happened, when, and why. Characters blur across time: jokes echo, wounds reopen, childhood innocence collides with adult guilt. The animation – deceptively light and comedic – becomes the perfect cover for something much heavier: the ache of living, of growing up, of holding on. It doesn’t sugarcoat life’s imperfections; it sketches them in sharp lines, then colors them with laughter, sorrow, hope and the occasional moment of absurd clarity. By the end, the family you thought you understood turns out to be a mirror – maybe of your own. | © Netflix

Cropped the studio — 10. The Studio

Behind the veneer of glossy Hollywood glamor, *The Studio* sneaks up with jokes that sting and cameos that wink – all while showing how messy the industry can really be. The show stars and was co-created by Seth Rogen, who plays a frazzled studio head balancing corporate demands and creative dreams. What keeps you hooked isn’t just the satire or the celebrity walk-ons: it’s the sense that every absurd moment reflects a real Hollywood headache – the kind that hits even beyond the screen. The long takes, the sharp dialogue, and the clever pacing make the chaos feel lived-in rather than exaggerated. When the laughter dies down, you might catch yourself thinking about the cost of “success,” of art, and of compromise. *The Studio* isn’t just a laugh track – it’s a reluctant love letter to Hollywood, warts and all. | © Coytesville Productions

9. The Lowdown

*The Lowdown* creeps in through a dusty door – the kind you expect to squeak – and then refuses to leave until it’s shoved uncomfortable truths under your nose. Set in Tulsa, this neo-noir series follows a journalist whose search for truth spirals into local unrest, secrets, and danger. Ethan Hawke brings weary charm and desperation to the role, grounded in a landscape where nothing is straightforward and trust is a luxury. The show doesn’t just play with crime tropes: it embeds its mystery in communal wounds, economic decay, and whispered power struggles. As revelations pile up, every character – even the “stable” ones – seems to teeter. *The Lowdown* isn’t a neat mystery you solve; it’s a knot you keep turning. And once it tightens, there’s no easy way out. | © Crazy Eagle Media

Cropped the rehearsal — 8. The Rehearsal (Season 2)

If reality TV and social experiment had a weird, brilliant baby, it would be *The Rehearsal*. In Season 2, the show ramped up its ambition: the creator – and performer – helps people rehearse their most dreaded real-life moments with actors, sets, and a mix of chaos and quiet. It blurs the line between cringe comedy and existential reflection so thoroughly that you’re never sure when you’re laughing, wincing, or silently judging your own assumptions. The humor doesn’t aim to comfort – it unsettles, exposing how awkward and fragile human desire for control is. Watching someone simulate a confrontation, a confession, or a breakup with that much specificity shakes the idea of “real emotions.” *The Rehearsal* doesn’t pretend to teach you something neat; it shows you the messiness behind human relationships, all while keeping you on edge. | © Blow Out Productions

Cropped Jean Smart Hacks — 7. Hacks (Season 2)

Just when you thought a show about a washed-up comedian and her writer couldn’t stretch farther, *Hacks* Season 2 sneaks in with sharper jokes, deeper cracks, and more honest dysfunction than you might expect from a comedy. The writing still nails the punchlines, but there’s a softness now – a willingness to show fear, regret, and the weight of ambition that doesn’t get cleaned up at the end of the episode. It’s not afraid to let its characters mess up, to show them stumble under their own expectations, or to make you feel for them even when you laugh at their worst decisions. Season 2 feels like a balancing act between satire and soul: the laughs are there, but so are the small gut-punches that stick. Watching it, you might find yourself nodding, laughing, and maybe – just a little – caring more than you expected to. | © Universal Television

Cropped Adolescence — 6. Adolescence

The moment *Adolescence* begins, it doesn’t just ask questions – it drags them into the light and leaves them there. The story of a 13-year-old boy accused of a violent crime, told in episodes shot in continuous takes, turns a crime drama into something that feels dangerously real. The camera doesn’t blink, and neither does the tension: every pause, every glance, every breath counts. As the narrative spirals through grief, guilt, community, and fear, you stop watching as an observer – you become a reluctant witness. The performances cut deep: characters don’t behave like archetypes, but like people pushed to their edges. By the end, the darkness doesn’t lift neatly. It lingers. *Adolescence* doesn’t promise answers. It demands reflection. | © Warp Films

Cropped severance — 5. Severance (Season 2)

Just when you thought your job sucked, *Severance* Season 2 reminds you how terrifying "balance" can really be. This follow-up digs deeper into the twisted memory-split world at Lumon Industries, ratcheting up the claustrophobia, corporate dread, and emotional stakes. The everyday office horror – the florescent lights, sameness, hushed secrets – becomes a pressure cooker. When the walls between “work self” and “real self” blur, identity doesn’t just slip – it fractures. The season doesn’t rely on cheap scares: it creeps. And when things finally crack, the shock lands hard. It’s stylish, unsettling, heartbreaking and meticulous in equal parts – proof that the most horrifying monsters might just sit next to you at the cubicle. | © Apple TV+

Andor season 2 cropped processed by imagy — 4. Andor (Season 2)

You don’t need a lightsaber to feel warfare; *Andor* Season 2 proves that revolution can be messy, grim, and heartbreakingly human. As the rebellion’s furnace heats up, the show steers clear of hero-posters and opts instead for worn-out faces, moral compromises, and the heavy cost of fighting for change. Characters – especially Cassian – don't glow with idealism so much as they bear the exhausted weight of hope. Every mission adds scars: physical, emotional, political. And when betrayal or sacrifice lands, it doesn’t look cinematic – it looks real, brutal, necessary. This final stretch doesn’t ask for easy answers. It shows what it’s like to want more than survival. It demands resilience when hope seems bankrupt. | © Disney+

Asura 2025 cropped processed by imagy — 3. Asura

Domestic chaos rarely looks as elegant as it does in *Asura*, Hirokazu Kore-eda's 2025 Netflix family drama about four Takezawa sisters trying (and often failing) to keep their lives from collapsing in sync. At first glance it’s just everyday life – dinners, side comments, shared glances – but the cracks in their marriages and loyalties widen with every episode. Old resentments bubble up, affairs and secrets shift the ground under their feet, and the calm surface that the family presents to the world keeps threatening to shatter. Kore-eda leans into small gestures instead of melodrama: a hand on a shoulder, a half-finished sentence, a look that says more than any confrontation could. The result is a series that feels disarmingly real, like you’ve been dropped into the middle of a long, complicated family conversation and can’t quite pull away. Critics have called *Asura* one of the strongest Netflix dramas in years, and it’s easy to see why – it turns ordinary emotional fractures into something quietly devastating. | © Bunbuku

Pluribus cropped processed by imagy — 2. Pluribus

In *Pluribus*, the world as we know it collapses into something far stranger: most of humanity becomes part of a massive hive mind, leaving only a handful of people outside the collective. Rhea Seehorn stars as one of the few holdouts – someone who can't join the swarm and is forced to navigate a planet where individuality has become a dangerous rarity. Vince Gilligan’s signature storytelling touches are all over the setup, blending grounded character work with a high-concept premise that feels unnervingly plausible. The show leans into the discomfort of a fractured world, where unity comes at the cost of free will and resistance can feel unbearably lonely. As the hive mind expands, the tension grows not from monsters or mayhem, but from the crushing pressure of being one of the last people who can still think independently. *Pluribus* feels intimate despite its massive stakes – a sci-fi story that keeps its emotional focus sharp. | © Apple Studios

Cropped The Pitt — 1. The Pitt

Hospital dramas don’t usually trap you inside the building... usually... *The Pitt* leans into the claustrophobia and lets it simmer across a single, relentless fifteen-hour shift. The series takes place inside a struggling emergency department, where underfunding, staff shortages, and nonstop crises wear down the doctors and nurses who are barely holding things together. Instead of sprinting between dramatic twists, the show observes the quiet grind – the exhaustion, the compromises, the gallows humor that holds the staff upright when everything around them starts to tilt. The tension comes not from explosions or disasters but from the simple, painful reality of a system stretched to its breaking point. In that pressure cooker, even small decisions feel monumental. *The Pitt* doesn’t romanticize the work; it shows the cost of caring when the world refuses to slow down. | © Warner Bros. Television

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Television in 2025 didn’t just show up — it barged in with cliffhangers, impossible-to-ignore characters, and enough bingeable chaos to derail even the most disciplined viewer. Some series exploded overnight, others crept up slowly, but together they turned the year into a strangely delightful parade of obsessions. And if you wandered in here looking for films instead, don’t worry — our rundown of The Best Movies of 2025 has you covered.

Now that the glow of back-to-back episodes has finally faded a bit, the standouts of the year are pretty clear. These are the shows people recommended too loudly, dissected in group chats, defended with alarming passion, and occasionally yelled at when endings went rogue. Here’s the lineup that truly ruled the small screen in 2025.