The Best TV Shows of 2019 (So Far)

We're three-quarters of the way into 2019 and, strictly TV-wise, it's been a great year—hell, we're ready to name the best TV shows of the year already. Disney+ and Apple TV+ are around the corner, hoping to beam more prestige content into our skulls than ever before; Netflix is firing out ambitious originals at an alarming rate; and HBO appears to be going through the "cut all your hair off and move to Berlin for a year" phase of its breakup with Game of Thrones, throwing money at some of the better, weirder stuff on TV right now.

With so much to watch, GQ scanned the entire office for devotees of 2019's best TV. Here's what we came up with.

Succession

<cite class="credit">HBO</cite>
HBO

Last year, it took nearly half the summer for the world to wake up to the genius of HBO’s Succession. “It takes four or five episodes to really get cooking,” I’d tell my friends. “But stick with it—it’s worth it.” The ones who did were richly rewarded; the show’s legendarily assholish Roy family populated my group chats for months. Season 2 has faced no such problems, instead firing on all cylinders (and a little bit of park coke) from the very first episode. The humor is both broad slapstick and deeply, weirdly specific. The drama is increasingly harrowing. There is still nothing like it on television, and until there is, it’ll be the only thing I really care to watch.—Sam Schube, senior editor

The Good Fight

<h1 class="title">Day 408</h1><cite class="credit">Patrick Harbron</cite>

Day 408

Patrick Harbron

In no uncertain terms, 2019 is one of the most unhinged years of the decade. So it makes sense that a show that constantly threatens to hurl itself off a cliff—CBS All Access's divine The Good Fight, a daring spinoff of The Good Wife—is also one of the year's best. In its third season (seriously why aren't you watching this show yet...?), the legal drama took on Trump more incisively than many late-night shows; it brought us animated musical numbers meant to simplify complicated legal concepts; it put Christine Baranski front and center as her Diane Lockhart continued to pull herself out of the depths of political-induced apathy in an attempt to take down our current administration. It's barely restrained camp. It's everything I needed.—Brennan Carley, associate editor

Schitt's Creek

<cite class="credit">IMDB</cite>
IMDB

There's something to be said about a show knowing when to exit, aware of how culturally On Top it is, preferring to pull the plug instead of dragging its feet for X number of additional seasons. Some shows sacrifice quality for quantity in that regard. Schitt's Creek, Dan Levy's beautiful brainchild, delivered one of its best seasons yet this year, before announcing that its next will be its last. If you don't know the show by now, nothing I say will be good enough to match the quality of its writing, its acting, its scene-setting, its storylines. Schitt's Creek is a world in which I'd happily live forever; that it's coming to an end only makes the time we had together all the more special.—B.C.

Real Housewives of Potomac

<cite class="credit">Bravo</cite>
Bravo

This is the most well-cast television show currently airing, comprised of all-star wives who come prepared to play each and every episode. The key to a golden Housewives season is a mixture of willingness to engage; enough inner desperation to be willing to do it on camera; and enough confidence to blow past any doubt that doing it on camera might not be the best longterm plan. Hence Gizelle Bryant, a Top 5 housewife with just four seasons under her belt; Karen Huger, a matriarch ready to eat her own babies; Robyn Dixon, a truly good woman who I would take a bullet for; Ashley Darby, one of the youngest cast members in Housewives history, who knows how to rankle her elders; Monique Samuels, who wields receipts longer than the ones you get at CVS like they're knives; and Candiace Dillard, whose mommy issues are the stuff of Shakespearean dreams. If Bravo wanted to air a 52-week long season of RHOP, I would tune in for every single episode. Potomac, you're perfect, don't change a goddamned thing.—B.C.

Fleabag

<h1 class="title">TCDFLEA EC015</h1><cite class="credit">Everett Collection</cite>

TCDFLEA EC015

Everett Collection

The thing about new shows in 2019 is that they always seem to come with caveats. It takes a few episodes for it to find its footing, that character is really frustrating, that rapper-who-shall-not-be-named is an Executive Producer, you name it. Fleabag requires no such disclaimer. The show’s second season drops you right back into the somewhat twisted, upsettingly relatable mind of its main character (played by creator Phoebe Waller-Bridge), who's referred to in the episode descriptions as Fleabag but never named. She’s doing much better now than she was in the first season, but still mourning the death of her mother and her best friend. Plus, her sister Claire, who thinks Fleabag kissed her husband, will not speak to her. The story of Season Two largely centers around the reconstruction of this relationship, as well as Fleabag’s budding courtship with “The Priest.” (Who is indeed very hot.) That relationship, with all its impediments, is intoxicating to watch, and builds to an emotional conclusion rivaling that of its groundbreaking first go-around. The whole series is a 12-episode adventure with no filler that you’ll be unable to pull away from. Go watch it now!—Daniel Varghese, tech and lifestyle writer

Killing Eve

<h1 class="title">TCDKIEV EC057</h1><cite class="credit">BBCAmerica</cite>

TCDKIEV EC057

BBCAmerica

I had never watched an episode of Killing Eve until I watched the entirety of the second season in one day, while stuck on the couch with a truly awful cold. It’s hard to overstate how much I hate to binge-watch shows, but I absolutely could not pull myself away from this show. Much has been said about the push and pull between Eve and Villanelle, and their constant tension, but what truly endeared me to this show was the writing. The show is completely fearless in its direction, and the season finale was the first thing I’ve watched in a long time that made me physically stand up and gasp. Not only does this show whip incredible ass, it is a great reminder that Sandra Oh is an absolute treasure.—Gabe Conte, digital producer

Russian Doll

<h1 class="title">1</h1><cite class="credit">Netflix</cite>

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Netflix

You know what’s not fun? The same thing over and over and over. Also, death (purportedly; really, what do I know?). But then there’s Russian Doll, which is entirely built on kill-yourself-it’s-so-monotonous reincarnation, and somehow it’s a better time than cocaine-laced blunts. Natasha Lyonne does perfect deadpan befuddlement. Like a Warhol print, Greta Lee chirping “Sweet birthday baby!” gets better with each iteration. And then there are the surprises and bits of suspense within the layers: the sheer variety of death, the show’s world progressively disappearing, all the unexpected connections and entanglements. The casting is perfect (hello, Chloë Sevigny!), you can practically smell the show’s downtown New York world; in every way, Russian Doll kills it.—Max Cea, GQ contributor

Love Island (U.K.)

<cite class="credit">IMDB</cite>
IMDB

The fifth season of Love Island took fewer twists than usual (though there was still plenty of drama, screaming, people getting "pied off," etc.) thanks to a group of islanders who simply... enjoyed each other's company. Groundbreaking! Better than watching couples pair off and wrestle over their own (often) doomed compatibility was watching the alliances form among the boys and the girls—this is still a heteronormative show, after all. There's real romance here as well as real personal growth. 20-year-old Tommy Fury, brother to problematic boxing superstar Tyson, came into the villa never having made a cup of tea before. Watching him learn how to be a human in real-time is one of the seminal anthropological studies ever committed to screen.—Tom Philip, GQ contributor

Barry

<cite class="credit">HBO</cite>
HBO

If the first season of Barry was about whether Barry (Bill Hader) could leave behind his life as a hitman and become not only a successful actor but also a good person, then the second season answers that question with a resounding no. The show pulls you increasingly deeper into the sinkhole Barry’s created for himself—as well as into the lives of a hugely compelling host of secondary characters, like everyone’s favorite Chechen mobster NoHo Hank (Anthony Carrigan), who dispenses one-liners with the same free-handed abundance as he does bullets. (When Barry turns down a job, for instance, he chastises him by asking “What do you want me to do, walk into John Wick assassin hotel with ‘Help Wanted’ sign?”) Oh, and it has the greatest grocery store fight scene of all time.—Gabriella Paiella, culture writer

Chernobyl

<cite class="credit">HBO</cite>
HBO

HBO's miniseries Chernobyl indisputably made a nuclear catastrophe from 33 years ago chic. Real people were so inspired by a TV show based on horrifying true events that they flew to a remote, still-probably-not-safe locale to take thirst traps for Instagram. Is there any higher compliment? Admittedly, my reaction to Chernobyl was not that strong, but I did find it far more gripping than any other thrillers or dramas in recent memory. And that rhythmic clicking sound of radiation detectors may, in fact, stick with me forever.—Alex Shultz, editorial assistant

Dead to Me

<h1 class="title">1</h1><cite class="credit">Netflix</cite>

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Netflix

I would love to say that TV has reached the saturation point for shows about Complicated Women, but I am still unabashedly a sucker for this formula—perhaps because it’s one so overdue and so ripe for new angles that it’s honestly pretty hard to get wrong. (Who knew women could be complicated in so many ways?! Answer: All women, actually.) Case in point: Dead to Me, which stars Christina Applegate and Linda Cardellini—both at career peaks—as Jen and Judy, two suburban women brought together by a shared tragedy. It’s Desperate Housewives for the Big Little Lies age—sharply funny, endearingly cynical, and just twisty enough to keep the plot from getting stale. But its biggest feat is its casting—one of those entirely weird, out-of-left-field pairings that, once you’ve seen it play out, makes you wonder why these two didn’t team up sooner. Hats off to creator Liz Feldman for weaving two of the most familiar but criminally underused faces in the industry into a dazzlingly messy portrait of grief, guilt, anger, loss, lies, and friendship.—Danielle Cohen, editorial business assistant

Euphoria

<cite class="credit">HBO</cite>
HBO

For a show whose pre-premiere buzz was centered largely around the abundance of penises in a singular scene (30, to be exact), Euphoria pretty much broke the scandalous teen drama mold, deftly grounding its full-throttle sensory deluge with real emotional resonance. The credit lies indisputably with Zendaya, popping against an already talented cast of Gen-Z up-and-comers as the show’s drug-addled narrator and star, and flexing the kind of acting and singing chops that signify a real heavy-hitter. (Seriously, Zendaya will EGOT!) Come for the eye makeup; stay for genre-defying characters that—beyond their scandalous accoutrements—feel profoundly, inexorably human.—D.C.

The OA

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Netflix

The OA is canceled, but that hasn't stopped a well-coordinated fan campaign from raging across the country to save it. In many ways, the #savetheoa rally shares a lot of the TV show it loves: It's sincere—perhaps to a fault, occasionally very embarrassing, but weird and endearing all the same. This is a show on which psychic octopuses, Russian oligarchy, and huge emotional beats somehow ably find themselves hand-in-hand. Writer and star Brit Marling and director Zal Batmanglij create not just one, but multiple realities with confidence and passion. If Season Two's finale really is the end, it's a fittingly ridiculous and batshit way to end a show so beautiful, and, paradoxically, laughably inelegant. There will never be anything like it again.—T.P.

PEN15

<h1 class="title">Miranda</h1><cite class="credit">Everett Collection</cite>

Miranda

Everett Collection

For millennial audiences at least, PEN15 revives a very specific awkward horror of going through middle school and hitting puberty in the 90s. Seventh graders Maya and Anna—played but creators Maya Erskine and Anna Konkle, both 32—work desperately to fit in with their more popular classmates and while not to letting their innate dork out too much. The gag is that Erskine and Konkle are surrounded by actual 12-year-old actors who are constantly insulting them and lecturing them about sex and the ways of the world, and Maya and Anna have no idea that their peers are as clueless as they are. The show captures a this-is-so-accurate-it’s-physically-uncomfortable style of comedy, where the girls swap a stolen thong for a confidence boost, decipher the sexual feelings of boys through their burned CDs, and agonize over creating AIM names (Babyspice666 and Diper911).—Luke Darby, contributing writer

Tuca & Bertie

<cite class="credit">IMDB</cite>
IMDB

It pains me that any discussion of Tuca & Bertie probably needs to start with the fact that it wasn’t picked up for a second season by Netflix. So while its debut season is my favorite thing to hit television... er, streaming services this year, there may not be any more new episodes. That said, what a beautiful perfect season of television this is. Ali Wong, Tiffany Haddish, and Steven Yeun lend their voices to talking songbirds and a toucan, playing characters dealing with anxiety and quarter-life crises. But the show really thrives in my opinion because of the creativity of Lisa Hanawalt, who is also an illustrator on fellow Netflix animated series BoJack Horseman. Tuca & Bertie stretches the form more than any other animated series—typically breaking from the (yes, animated, shut up) reality rendering the typically cartoon characters in clay for a breakthrough meditation session or string figures to depict a memory of a family falling apart. Phones talk, boobs desert their bodies (and are voiced by Awkwafina!), and for some reason the Cool Teens in this world are chill swishy plants. Tuca & Bertie is the most delightful thing to hit television in years—Hulu, Amazon, Cartoon Network, HBO, and, like, I don’t know is AMC still on (??) you know what to do.—Cam Wolf, style features writer

Los Espookys

<cite class="credit">HBO</cite>
HBO

In an era with so much prestige TV, it can feel daunting just picking out what show to binge next. But with a runtime of less than three hours spread over six easily-digestible episodes, Los Espookys is both refreshing in length and content. Lost in the chaotic aftermath that was Game of Thrones’ final season, HBO quietly released this absurdist masterpiece featuring breakout performances from Cassandra Ciangherotti, Julio Torres, and Ana Fabrega (not to mention Fred Armisen as the world’s greatest valet driver). If you missed it the first time around, it’s a pitch-perfect addition for your Halloween-viewing list this October.—Mick Rouse, research manager

Originally Appeared on GQ