These Are The Highest-Rated TV Shows of 2025 (According to IMDb)

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Ignacio Weil

Entertainment - December 29th 2025, 23:00 GMT+1

American Primeval cropped processed by imagy — 15. American Primeval - 8.0/10

Snow, fear, and bad timing do a lot of the heavy lifting here, and somehow it feels *earned* instead of performatively grim. Set during the Utah War, the series drops you into a frontier where every alliance looks temporary and every “safe route” is basically a rumor people tell to sleep at night. The story follows Sara and her son Devin as they push toward something like refuge, while Isaac Reed—part guide, part walking trauma—keeps getting pulled back into violence he’d clearly like to retire from. It’s brutal without being sloppy: the danger isn’t abstract, it’s right there in the logistics, in who has food, who has horses, who has enough desperation to do something irreversible. The show also knows how to build dread with people rather than scenery, especially once factions start colliding and nobody’s motivations stay simple for long. By the end, it feels less like a “western adventure” and more like a survival argument that never stops escalating. | © Grand Electric

Cropped the white lotus — 14. The White Lotus - 8.0/10

Nothing says “relaxing getaway” like a luxury resort that immediately starts collecting secrets the way other places collect towels. Season 3 relocates the chaos to Thailand, where wellness culture, privilege, and quiet resentments swirl together until the smiles start looking like masks with great skincare. The cast is stacked with people you *want* to trust and absolutely should not, and the show keeps daring you to pick a favorite before reminding you that everyone has a blind spot (or a full-on moral crater). What makes this season addictive isn’t just the looming sense that something will go horribly wrong—it’s how the conversations land like tiny detonations, polite on the surface and venomous underneath. The staff’s perspective stays crucial too, because watching rich people spiral is one thing; watching them do it while pretending they’re “finding themselves” is the extra bite. It’s still funny, still uncomfortable, and still weirdly hard to pause, because the show turns entitlement into suspense with frightening efficiency. | © HBO Entertainment

Cropped the studio — 13. The Studio - 8.1/10

A Hollywood satire only works if it understands the industry’s most sacred ritual: panicking in conference rooms while pretending it’s “creative alignment.” Seth Rogen plays a studio head who genuinely wants to make good movies, which is adorable in the same way it’s adorable to bring a violin to a demolition site. The comedy comes from watching taste and commerce wrestle on a daily basis—notes, compromises, ego bruises, PR fires—while everyone swears they’re protecting “the art.” Catherine O’Hara, Kathryn Hahn, and the rest of the ensemble weaponize incompetence, ambition, and charm in different directions, so the office dynamics feel like a battle royale with nicer outfits. The show’s rhythm is frantic, but it’s not random; it keeps circling the same idea that loving film doesn’t make the job healthier, it just makes the disappointments more personal. And the celebrity cameos don’t feel like decorative sprinkles—they feel like proof that everyone’s in on the joke, including the joke. | © Coytesville Productions

Cropped adolescence netflix — 12. Adolescence - 8.1/10

The arrest happens early, and after that the show becomes a slow, claustrophobic question: how did an ordinary school day end up here? The story centers on Jamie Miller, a 13-year-old accused of murdering a girl at his school, and it follows the shockwaves through family, police, and community like a crack spreading across glass. Stephen Graham brings a tired, gut-level realism that makes every conversation feel like it could snap, especially when adults try to “solve” emotions the way they solve problems. The one-take approach isn’t just a flex—it traps you inside the moment, so there’s no easy cutaway from discomfort or guilt or grief. What hits hardest is how the series refuses neat villains; it keeps showing systems, pressures, blind spots, and the terrifying gaps between what people think they know and what’s actually happening. It’s intense, yes, but also precise—more scalpel than sledgehammer—so the dread comes from recognition, not melodrama. | © Warp Films

Cropped Daredevil Born Again 2025 — 11. Daredevil: Born Again - 8.1/10

The mask is back, but the real tension lives in the day job: Matt Murdock trying to do justice in court while New York keeps rewarding the worst possible candidates with power. Charlie Cox plays Matt like someone who’s been holding his breath for a year, and the moment he starts exhaling, the city gives him a fresh reason to panic. The central collision is beautifully simple—Matt versus Wilson Fisk—except it’s not a rooftop rivalry anymore; Fisk is the mayor now, which means the menace comes with paperwork, optics, and official authority. The show leans into consequences: vigilante work isn’t framed as a cool hobby, it’s framed as a choice that stains everything around it, including friendships and the fragile hope of normal life. Fight scenes still hit, but the dread is political and personal at the same time, like the city itself is daring Matt to either compromise or break. It’s gritty, driven, and allergic to easy wins—exactly the vibe Daredevil needs. | © Marvel Television

Cropped Dept Q — 10. Dept. Q - 8.2/10

Cold-case shows usually give you a slick squad and a shiny bullpen; this one gives Carl Morck a basement, a mountain of forgotten files, and trauma he can’t out-stare. Matthew Goode plays him as a detective who’s still bleeding internally after a shooting that left his partner James Hardy paralyzed, which makes every new clue feel like it’s scraping the same bruise. The surprise (and the fun) is the team: Akram Salim quietly proving he’s the sharpest person in the room, Rose Dickson showing up with something to prove, and a missing prosecutor case—Merritt Lingard—that refuses to stay simple. The show’s tension doesn’t come from cheap jump scares; it comes from the slow realization that the past isn’t past, it’s just been filed badly. Even the therapy sessions land like plot—because sometimes the scariest mystery is why someone keeps doing this job at all. It’s bleak, but it’s also oddly satisfying watching broken people build something functional out of leftovers. | © Sony Pictures Television

1923 tv show cropped processed by imagy — 9. 1923 - 8.3/10

Montana never feels like “scenic background” here; it feels like a living opponent with weather for fists. Harrison Ford and Helen Mirren give Jacob and Cara Dutton that steel-and-splinters energy—two people holding a ranch together with stubbornness, strategy, and the occasional look that says, “We’ve survived worse, unfortunately.” Season two turns the pressure up: money problems, enemies circling, and the sense that the land is being priced and packaged by people who’ve never had to bleed for it. Meanwhile, Spencer’s long, brutal journey home keeps running like a second fuse line—part adventure, part heartbreak, part “please let these two catch a break” (they won’t). What makes it work is the scale: personal grief sitting right next to generational warfare, with the show constantly reminding you that history isn’t tidy—it’s hungry. Every episode feels like it’s daring the Duttons to flinch first. | © 101 Studios

Mobland cropped processed by imagy — 8. Mobland - 8.4/10

The fixer is the most dangerous person in a crime family, because he’s the one who knows where the bodies are *and* where the leverage is. Tom Hardy’s Harry Da Souza moves through this world like a man who’s always calculating exits, debts, and who’s about to lie to whom—often in the same sentence. The Harrigans are the kind of dynasty that smiles with teeth: Pierce Brosnan and Helen Mirren radiate “old power,” while the rest of the family dynamic feels like a dinner party where everyone brought a weapon instead of a bottle of wine. The story thrives on the quiet stuff—threats disguised as favors, loyalty tests dressed up as family business—until it stops being quiet and the consequences come crashing in. It’s stylish without pretending any of this is glamorous; every win feels like it comes with a bill attached. And because the show keeps its focus on relationships, the betrayals sting even when you see them coming. | © Easter Partisan

7. Andor - 8.6/10

Rebellion here isn’t a poster slogan; it’s paperwork, paranoia, and the slow moment you realize you can’t go back to being “just a guy” anymore. Cassian starts as a survivor with sharp instincts, and watching him harden into a true rebel is less glow-up, more moral erosion—step by step, choice by choice. The show’s secret weapon is its ensemble: Luthen feels like ideology with a pulse, Mon Mothma turns dinner parties into political warfare, and Dedra Meero proves the Empire doesn’t need monsters when it has ambitious professionals. Season two keeps tightening the timeline toward *Rogue One*, so every alliance and sacrifice lands with that extra layer of dread: you know the destination, but the path still hurts. It’s tense in a quiet way—like a spy thriller that trusts you to notice what’s *not* being said. Also, it somehow makes meetings feel dangerous, which is either brilliant writing or a personal attack on anyone who’s ever worked in an office. | © Lucasfilm

Black Mirror cropped processed by imagy — 6. Black Mirror - 8.7/10

Every season feels like someone looked at modern life and said, “What if we nudge that one inch and let it ruin everything?”—and then did it with a straight face. The anthology format is the real superpower: one episode might be glossy and heartbreaking, the next might be horror with a tech support hotline, and the next might be a comedy that leaves you unsettled on purpose. Season seven leans into what it does best: big ideas that start plausible, then quietly tighten until you realize you’re holding your breath. It also plays with its own legacy—bringing back familiar worlds (including a *USS Callister* continuation) without turning into a nostalgia museum. The performances stay memorable because the show gives actors real emotional meat to chew, even when the premise is “this gadget should not exist.” You don’t watch it to relax; you watch it to feel smart, nervous, and slightly suspicious of whatever device is closest to your face. | © Zeppotron

Solo leveling season 2 cropped processed by imagy — 5. Solo Leveling - 8.7/10

Power fantasies usually come with a subtle promise: “don’t worry, this will be fun,” and then they immediately hand you a protagonist who’s basically a walking cheat code. Sung Jinwoo starts as the weakest hunter around, but the show’s real hook is how quickly that underdog story mutates into something darker and more strategic—leveling up isn’t just glow-up, it’s an arms race. Season two keeps widening the world (guild politics, escalating gates, bigger threats) while Jinwoo’s shadow-summoning kit turns every fight into a “surprise, you’re outnumbered” moment. The animation leans hard into crisp, high-impact combat, but the best tension is psychological: what happens when your identity becomes “the guy who can’t stop getting stronger”? It’s addictive in the exact way RPG grinding is addictive—except the loot is trauma and the boss fights have opinions. Also, the show fully knows it’s cool, and it doesn’t waste time pretending otherwise. | © A-1 Pictures

4. Severance - 8.7/10

The scariest part of Lumon isn’t the creepy hallways or the culty corporate rituals—it’s how normal everyone’s tone stays while they’re doing something morally unhinged. Season two digs deeper into the split lives of the “innies” and “outies,” and it gets messier in the best way: the outside world isn’t a clean escape hatch, it’s just a different room with different lies. Mark’s grief and Gemma’s existence stop being “mystery-box garnish” and start driving choices that feel personal, desperate, and occasionally spectacularly ill-advised. Helly/Helena remains a walking identity crisis with great hair, Dylan is still the most emotionally volatile weapon in the group, and Irving’s storyline keeps that haunted, investigative undertow. The show’s genius is that it can make a conversation about office policy feel like a hostage negotiation, then pivot into heartbreak without blinking. It’s funny, it’s bleak, and it’s the rare series where fluorescent lighting feels like a threat. | © Red Hour Productions

Invincible cropped processed by imagy — 3. Invincible - 8.7/10

Superhero stories love a clean arc: discover powers, learn lessons, save world, roll credits. This show laughs at that outline and replaces it with “congrats, you can fly—now process generational violence and interplanetary politics.” Mark Grayson’s big problem isn’t just surviving fights; it’s figuring out what kind of person he’s allowed to be after the Omni-Man truth nukes his entire sense of reality. The voice cast sells every emotional whiplash turn—Steven Yeun keeps Mark painfully human, Sandra Oh keeps Debbie painfully real, and J.K. Simmons makes “dad energy” genuinely terrifying. Season three keeps raising the stakes while refusing to pretend strength solves anything; every win seems to come with a new bruise you can’t bandage. The action is brutal, sure, but the real punch is how the show treats consequences like a permanent roommate. It’s basically a coming-of-age story where puberty is replaced by cosmic trauma, which is… not ideal, but wildly compelling. | © Amazon MGM Studios

Cropped the pitt — 2. The Pitt - 8.9/10

A medical drama set in “one 15-hour shift” sounds like a gimmick until you realize it’s an excellent excuse to never let you relax again. Noah Wyle’s Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch leads an ER that feels permanently one ambulance away from collapse, and the show captures that specific chaos where every hallway conversation gets interrupted by sirens, screaming, or somebody making a decision they’ll regret by lunch. What really works is the ensemble rhythm: nurses, residents, attendings—everyone juggling triage, understaffing, and the emotional hangover of doing this job in a post-pandemic world. The cases hit hard without turning into “medical misery bingo,” because the writing keeps returning to the human cost: exhaustion, gallows humor, and the quiet moments where a character realizes they’re running on fumes. The real-time structure makes every tiny delay feel huge, like a dropped instrument is suddenly a plot twist. It’s tense, grounded, and weirdly cathartic—like watching competence fight panic in real time. | © Warner Bros. Television

When Life Gives You Tangerines — 1. When Life Give You Tangerines - 9.1/10

This one doesn’t sprint for big twists; it strolls, sits with you, and somehow makes a simple look across a room feel like an entire chapter of someone’s life. Set on Jeju, it follows a love story that stretches across time—youthful yearning and stubborn devotion on one side, and the weight of years (and choices) on the other. IU and Park Bo-gum bring that specific kind of chemistry that feels less “rom-com spark” and more “two people who actually know what silence means,” while the older timeline deepens the story instead of just summarizing it. The show’s strength is texture: family, seasons, small disappointments, community gossip, the way dreams get revised rather than abandoned. It can be gentle without being bland, and emotional without doing the manipulative “cry now” thing—more like it earns tears by being honest about how long life can be. And yes, it’s romantic, but not in a postcard way—more in the “love is work, love is patience, love is showing up anyway” way. | © Pan Entertainment

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If 2025 felt like the year TV decided to show off, you’re not imagining it—there’s been a steady stream of series that turned “one episode” into “why is it 3 a.m.?” To keep this from becoming a purely emotional ranking based on vibes and snacks, we’re using a simple yardstick: IMDb user ratings.

So the list ahead is built from IMDb scores (as they stand right now), which means it’s part popularity contest, part genuine love letter, and part “the internet has spoken.” Expect big prestige swings, crowd-pleasing hits, and a few surprises that quietly climbed the charts while everyone was arguing about something else.