\n<\/p>\n
On the small screen,<\/span> 2025 was all about money\u2014the ostentatious peacocking of wealth on shows such as Sirens, And Just Like That, Selling Sunset, and With Love, Meghan; the spiraling production costs of episodes themselves; the politicized wrestling over which megacorporation will take over Warner Bros. Discovery and its TV arms, including HBO. CBS canceled The Late Show With Stephen Colbert, in what seemed to many critics like an obvious sop to the Trump administration, ahead of Paramount\u2019s $8 billion merger with the production company Skydance. ABC briefly pulled Jimmy Kimmel Live off the air, until public outrage mounted to such an extent that the market value of Disney, its parent company, fell by $4 billion. It\u2019s hard to remember another time when the line between profiteering and entertainment has felt quite so porous.<\/p>\n With all of this in mind, the television series we loved most this year exemplified and defended the medium\u2019s artistry, demonstrating what can be done with serialized storytelling, ingenuity, and ambition. They leaned into topical flash points and dispensed with bland distraction. During a stretch when so much felt resolutely mid, these shows were anything but.<\/p>\n Netflix<\/p>\n Adolescence (Netflix)<\/p>\n Adolescence opens with a photo of a chubby-cheeked boy posing for a first-day-of-school photo, his hair cowlicked, his face proud. From that image onward, the show insists on the point that this boy\u2014named Jamie (played by Owen Cooper), now 13 and accused of murdering a classmate\u2014could be anyone\u2019s child, even yours. The immersive miniseries, created by the playwright Jack Thorne with the actor Stephen Graham (who stars as Jamie\u2019s father, Eddie), is filmed in a series of continuous shots: We follow the police into Jamie\u2019s bedroom; we watch Eddie recoil from his son after realizing what Jamie has done; we learn more, as children are interviewed and footage is revealed, about what\u2019s happened, but only fragments of why. The third episode, in which Jamie is gently interrogated by a psychologist (Erin Doherty), is excruciatingly tense; it\u2019s also revelatory, in the bleakest way possible. If Jamie is a monster, Adolescence posits, he\u2019s the kind that implicates everyone.\u00a0 \u2014 Sophie Gilbert<\/em><\/p>\n FX \/ Everett Collection<\/p>\n The Lowdown (FX)<\/p>\n With apologies to Ethan Hawke, part of the pleasure of watching The Lowdown comes from seeing how his character takes a beating. Lee Raybon, a used-book-store owner and self-proclaimed \u201ctruthstorian,\u201d tends to chase risky scenarios without fully thinking things through, but getting hurt only assures him he\u2019s on the right track. Created by the Reservation Dogs showrunner Sterlin Harjo and set in present-day Tulsa, Oklahoma, The Lowdown is a shaggy neo-noir that understands the appeal of a scrappy troublemaker. During his investigation into what he believes is a murder plot involving a powerful family, Lee pinballs around his surroundings and runs into all kinds of eccentric locals, played by an ensemble of excellent character actors. The result is a kinetic watch, anchored by a top-notch Hawke, bruises and all.\u00a0 \u2014 Shirley Li<\/em><\/p>\n HBO<\/p>\n Task (HBO)<\/p>\n What does it mean to be a man? The Mare of Easttown creator Brad Ingelsby\u2019s newest show\u2014also set in Delaware County, and also fascinated with the flaws and vulnerabilities of tight-knit communities\u2014contrasts the lives of two very different male figures set on a collision course. Tom Brandis (Mark Ruffalo) is a former priest turned grieving FBI agent; Robbie Prendergrast (Tom Pelphrey), a single father who robs drug houses, is his latest target. Over seven episodes, Task considers the two antagonists\u2019 oppositional responses to tragedy while also sketching out the world around them: a fentanyl-trafficking biker gang, local and federal law enforcement, a 21-year-old trying to raise her younger cousins as best she can. Beautifully shot, and more propulsive the longer it goes on, Task interrogates masculinity without losing sympathy for any of its adherents.\u00a0 \u2014 S.G.<\/em><\/p>\n FX<\/p>\n Adults (FX)<\/p>\n The ensemble at the center of Adults could easily be called the Gen Z Ross, Rachel, Monica, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe. But what differentiates the series from that other New York\u2013set comedy about 20-somethings is the fact that, to borrow a little more from Friends, these characters knew life was gonna be this way. They feel pressured to get serious but struggle to navigate the ever-changing expectations of growing up. Is it more important to stand out or be liked at the office? Which is harder: paying off deep medical debt or getting on the phone to dispute the costs? The season\u2019s highlight involves a character totally unprepared to throw the dinner party she\u2019s hosting, only for a much older guest to be the one who embarrasses himself the most. That\u2019s the fun of Adults: The titular group may be striving for maturity, but the show understands that adulthood can be a moving target.\u00a0 \u2014 S.L.<\/em><\/p>\n Netflix<\/p>\n The Diplomat (Netflix)<\/p>\n I have a soft spot for any show willing to consider women in positions of power, and Season 3 of The Diplomat offers up two of them: In addition to Keri Russell\u2019s brilliant, unkempt, impossibly charming Kate Wyler, the American ambassador to the United Kingdom, there\u2019s Allison Janney\u2019s icy Grace Penn, now\u2014thanks to her predecessor\u2019s heart attack\u2014promoted to president of the United States. Can the two find common ground? The Diplomat reliably examines all of our most special relationships, understanding that marriage can sometimes feel no less complicated, ambitious, and humbling than statecraft. There are twists galore, but I liked the smaller moments\u2014such as Bradley Whitford\u2019s wacky contentment as first gentleman, and Kate\u2019s MacGyvered costume change for Grace\u2019s first presidential appearance.\u00a0 \u2014 S.G.<\/em><\/p>\n HBO<\/p>\n The Pitt (HBO Max)<\/p>\n At their best, hospital procedurals maintain a curious balance: They combine the stress of seeing patients suffer with the pleasure of watching competent doctors. In its first, Emmy-sweeping season, The Pitt perfected that formula. Starring the ER alum Noah Wyle as Dr. \u201cRobby\u201d Robinavitch, a physician still reeling from the trauma of the coronavirus pandemic, the drama follows a sprawling ensemble of emergency-room workers over the course of a single shift. The real-time framework gives viewers an intimate look at the people who trickle in and out of the facility with various maladies\u2014some comical, others terrifying. Through it all, Wyle\u2019s lived-in performance grounds the stakes in the doctors\u2019 emotional reality, keeping The Pitt focused on what it takes to be in the business of saving lives.\u00a0 \u2014 S.L.<\/em><\/p>\n Apple TV \/ Everett Collection<\/p>\n Severance (Apple TV)<\/p>\n Goats. Ether. Doppelg\u00e4ngers. Animatronic deities ushered in to music by the Alan Parsons Project. Severance is a weird trip; Season 2, which came three years after the show\u2019s premiere and took us on frozen waterfall hikes and into secret pastoral laboratories, was no exception. Unlike most puzzle-box shows, though, the series sometimes offers answers as to WTF is actually going on at Lumon Industries. Season 2 develops the relationship between Innie Mark S. (Adam Scott) and Helly R. (Britt Lower) while continuing the investigation into what happened to Mark\u2019s not-actually-dead wife, now imprisoned on a secret floor at Lumon and undergoing a series of agonizing emotional trials. Stylized to a modernist extreme, Severance looks cold to the touch\u2014which is why it\u2019s always surprising when the show reveals a little of its heart.\u00a0 \u2014 S.G.<\/em><\/p>\n