Well, here it is. The Top 10.

Not sure if I have anything that profound to say about my rankings this year. If you’d like to see my usual self-deprecating rant excusing my rankings for being completely wrong, check out last year’s Top 10. (And they are definitely wrong, as evidenced by Atlanta’s Golden Globe victories Sunday night. (Side-note: You should definitely watch Atlanta. My issues with it aside, it’s a groundbreaking show that is at least worth the conversation.))

The one thing that strikes me about this year’s group is how much more “middle” it feels like there is this year. 40-50 of the shows in the middle fell into the category of “pretty good” if minorly flawed or inconsistent. Many of those shows had “excellent” episodes. But when it comes to the week-by-week excitement and anticipation to get to the next episode, it mostly fell to these 10 shows below. (Well, different kind of excitement for those streaming shows.) Does that mean I regret watching the 700 or so other episodes of TV from those shows? Not at all! The whole fun of it is the digging through the muck for those magical gems of episodes. Just because these shows strung more of those gems together doesn’t mean the others were less worthwhile. And your gems will probably look different than mine. Maybe you’re more after the clever plot twist than the cathartic character moment. Or maybe you’re more fascinated by a real housewife than a fake horse man.

But here are ten shows that had more of those gems and fewer of those turds than any other I saw last year. They were more consistent, did bigger and bolder things with the medium, and induced more of those involuntary emotional thingies: you know, the tears and the laughs. Should I reward them for causing me to lose control of my face? Probably not, but here we go anyway.

 

Let me start by saying that the nod to Chris Carter in this ranking was completely accidental, and not meaningful in any way. If I’d been stacking the deck at all, I would have placed this at rank 13, but the cards fell where they fell. (Never afraid to mix metaphors.)

I gave this season a big boost in total rating due to its fantastic finale. This series struck a perfect balance of story and character, spending much of its five-episode limited run dealing with the consequences of a thirteen-year abduction of a young woman on her family and friends. There is a police investigation element to it, and while there are developments in the story, and things we slowly learn about her thirteen year disappearance, it never devolves into cheap gotcha twists, but feels organic and truthful to the characters. The final episode was clever in how it created tension but also gave us answers in a natural and unforced way, as well as shining a light on character aspects. An unconventional opening credit sequence, great performances, and a shocking but earned ending all put the icing on one of the most satisfying and intelligent police dramas I’ve seen in a long time.

 

Whether or not to include Gravity Falls was the most agonizing I’ve done over the rules of my rankings. Because network shows are naturally split so that in a calendar year you will have the final half of one season, followed by the first half of the next, including partial seasons has been a natural staple of my rankings for years. But what if a cable show airs nothing but the first two episodes of its season in December? Should I rate them alone, independently of the remainder of the season? I don’t particularly like that. So, like with The Affair this year, I decided that I would rate a show only if it aired a season finale during that year, so I could either rate that season as a whole (including the previous year’s start), or just the half season if there was another first-half in the fall. Seems reasonable.

Enter Gravity Falls. It had its 2nd (and final) season finale in February of 2016. That was the only episode it aired this year. The 2nd season started in August of 2014. That’s right, this season had nearly two years of episodes previous to this year. Still, it technically follows the rule? But I didn’t start watching the show at all until this year. I watched both seasons in 2016, including this year’s finale. (Series finale.) If I had watched Season 2 last year, would I have held off in rating its 19 aired episodes, to wait for the finale to air in the next year? I’m not sure. Am I bending the spirit of the rules to include a two-year-old show because I liked it so damn much and want to include it in my ratings while I can? Maybe. That may have to be guilt I’ll have to be ready to live with. Hopefully I won’t be judged too harshly in the next world.

Okay, back to Gravity Falls: Loved it. It’s hilarious. For adults. Like, to an extent that I don’t think kids would actually like it all that much. Here’s some of the voice talent:

Regulars: Kristen Schaal (MVP), Linda Cardellini.

Recurring: T.J. Miller, J.K. Simmons, Nick Offerman, Will Forte.

Guest-stars: Nathan Fillion, Patton Oswalt, Jonathan Banks, Mark Hamill, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, Justin Roiland, Louis CK, John Oliver, Jon Stewart, Larry King, Coolio.

That’s right, Coolio. Like, this shit is not dicking around.

While Season 1 was bogged down too much by Dipper’s boring and trope-y quest to win over the girl, that storyline ended early on in Season 2 in a really surprisingly adult and natural manner, and they were free to explore more interesting territory, and also allow the girl to be a three-dimensional character in her own right. The show continued that trend of exploring adult themes (not sexual, just grown up), the ultimate example being the show’s best episode, A Tale of Two Stans, which was not only a hugely pivotal moment in the ongoing mythology of the series, but also a complex and emotional story up there with the best of your prestige dramas.

Throw on top of that really fun and creative supernatural elements, some legitimate scares and creepy villains, a strong story arc that plays out in a EPIC 3-part finale, and you have one of the more enjoyable and memorable TV experiences out there, cartoon or not. Recommended for anyone out there who likes fun things.

 

Much like The Leftovers last year, Game of Thrones shone brightly when finally free of the shadow of the books. I mean, I don’t think we truly know yet how much of this season was based on what Martin gave them at this point, but the show felt much less handcuffed than in the sullen Season 5. Most of the complaints I’ve heard about this season was it didn’t feel like Game of Thrones anymore with too much “fan service.” My interpretation of that complaint is there wasn’t enough pain and suffering for this to really be Game of Thrones. And sure. We finally got a number of things we wanted as an audience, which nearly never happened in any of the previous seasons. But by the same point, we’ve got to get moving to a resolution soon, right? So unless the end of the series is going to be that we lose every character we’ve invested in and care about, something has to start going right. And the way they are executing on that is just exciting and fun to watch. And honestly, even though those things did happen, we still managed to lose a fair number of well-liked characters this year, so it wasn’t all coming up roses, either! (Roses? See what I did there?)

While the typical big battle Episode 9 was awe-inspiring, if a bit trite and predictable structure-wise, the finale was one of the best episodes ever. I still listen to the gorgeous music from the haunting and jaw-dropping opening scene. And the way they moved all the pieces around in surprising ways, and left us anticipating what will come next season more than the series ever has before… gives the show a unique and hopeful place in my TV dreams for 2017. Go Dany Go!

 

This show feels the least authentic when it’s Jimmy being an asshole to Edgar. Based on all his character arcs to this point, dipping into that well again and again feels cheap and dishonest. Now that the negatives are out of the way: Edgar’s storyline was fantastic this season. (Did I mention I ❤ Edgar?) We finally got a well-deserved full episode focusing on him and the topical issues he has to deal with with the PTSD and VA struggles. A very moving and thoughtful examination of his character at the level of Gretchen’s depression in Season 2. On that note, I was happy they chose to follow her trying to deal with that, but it was also frustrating how terrible her therapist was. Lindsay is still the worst, though they really pushed how far we would still go along her shit this season. And while there was a bit of less compelling moves in the Jimmy and Gretchen relationship, I loved their drama in the last arc of the season, followed by the biggest oh shit cliffhanger. Talk about an emotional roller-coaster. And while it wasn’t popular, I got a kick out of the Vernon/Paul bonding episode. They have such a strange but compelling chemistry. Oh, and his podcast!!! Fantastic.

 

When hearing the title for the first time, or seeing the ironically girly marketing material for Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, you might not expect that the creators would cite Breaking Bad as their top influence when making the show. Described by Rachel Bloom as a “bubbly Walter White,” you can quickly see the parallels in this slightly delusional, self-centered female anti-hero: a character like we’ve never seen before on TV. When we meet her, Rebecca Bunch has unrealistic dreams about where her life should be, finds her self unsatisfied in her mundane and unexciting existence, and makes a rash decision to reclaim some youthful ideal of happiness.

Rebecca’s lack of self-awareness can be painful to watch, as it often was with Walter White. In the first half of Season 1, the show really basked in the awkwardness of her obsessively shoehorning herself into the life of Josh Chan, without admitting to herself or her friends that that’s what she was doing. On top of some freshman season issues with direction and pacing, this kept a truly innovative, at times hilarious, musical comedy from being as strong and consistent and enjoyable to watch as the Top 20.

2016, however, saw the show elevated to another level. Rebecca became a bit more hilariously awkward instead of painfully awkward. The songs, which took a bit of a dip at the end of Season 1, were high in both musicality and humor in Season 2. But most importantly, the cast of supporting characters was fleshed out and allowed to carry some of the dramatic and comedic weight. Where Rebecca’s misadventures in romance cast a cynical eye on “true love,” we are given a sincere, adorable, and unexpected couple that was an immediate hit among the show’s rabid fan base.

Rachel Bloom has an amazing knack for layering interesting complexity in characters that seem at the outset like they are two-dimensional or throwaways. Just when you think “aw, I’ve seen this plot device before”, as the opening sequence suggests, it turns out to be a lot more nuanced than that. She has a way of playing with the viewer’s expectations, kind of teasing you because she knows what you think you want as an audience member, and then she will pull the rug out and show you why maybe that thing isn’t good for anyone, and might not be as satisfying as you thought.

Similarly, she plays with the idea time and again of the characters as people challenging those things that seem like the “most important” things to them at any moment, and trying to take stock of the things you have, and what are going to be the things most helpful to pushing you forward, which all of our characters deal with in different ways. It’s a show that is very psychologically smart, and defiantly uses the term “crazy” to really discourage such easy pigeon-holing and encourage examination of what drives people to make whatever choices they do, even if those choices are sometimes unhealthy for them in the long run.

I’ll close by saying I found out literally an hour ago the show was renewed for a third season, which is super-exciting, especially considering that no one watches it! Well, most of my friends do, I meant more on a macro scale. If you’re not, you should be.

 

Well, this was the season (Season 4) I felt The Americans grew into the praise it had been getting for years. I’ve always felt the “spy” stuff was the least compelling stuff on the show, and this year they really did a great job of letting the characters be front and center. There weren’t a huge number of twists and turns, but they really lingered on the emotional consequences of each one to an almost uncomfortable degree. But especially this season, it’s that “consequences” piece that sets The Americans apart from other “spy” shows. (As you can tell, I am hesitant to call this a spy show, even though they are spies, and they do “spy things.”) But character deaths on The Americans are very rare, and are felt deeply, and not used purely for shock value and then discarded. A lot of screen time was dedicated to the potential exposure of one of their long-term “assets”, and a lesser show would have taken the easy way out and just had them killed off in a “shocking” way. But this show recognizes that our characters were human beings, and aren’t cavalier about throwing those they’ve tricked to the wolves, or won’t potentially be affected themselves by a long-term relationship, even if it is based on lies. The respect the show has for the humanity of all its characters, and not treating them simply as chess pieces in a political game with casualties, has really impressed me.

 

My only issue in rating this show so highly is that its peers at the top generally had more content. The six half-hour episodes basically constituted the equivalent of a long movie. But it was a strikingly unique, dark, quirky, self-aware, heartbreaking, and hopeful six episodes. It’s fairly unusual for me to be drawn in so quickly and dramatically as I was by this show’s distinctive voice and personality. The device of having the main character talking directly to the character had a similar effect as that of Frank Underwood in House of Cards, in allowing us to connect more personally to a character who was often dishonest, and rough around the edges. But in Fleabag, they are more capable at mining the device for laughs, as she bounces back and forth with effortless comic timing between internal and external voices, pointing out the ridiculousness of people and situations. I’m sure there was some influence from the long-running British show Peep Show, which also masterfully used the often conflicting inner monologue that let the audience know about the awful things the character was thinking as they were trying to seem like a normal human being. The device does pull back a bit after the first episode, in which it is used heavily to back-handedly introduce us to her world and characters. But the arc of the season is dramatically strong, and we get a strong mix of great comedic moments and extremely powerful and raw character beats.

 

I was a bit nervous going into the third season of BoJack Horseman. I felt like the first couple seasons had juiced the characters and relationships beautifully, but right up to the point where I felt like it had repeated itself once or twice. They were still powerful moments, but it was a warning sign that maybe they had said all they really had to say with this character. Also, shows can sometimes get in their own heads too much after finally being noticed, like BoJack was after its groundbreaking second season. They can try to do exactly the same thing that made people like it previously, or sometimes go the other route, and try too hard to do something completely different that doesn’t really fit the show. BoJack ain’t those shows.

Season 3, while not perfect, had maybe an even more stellar follow-up to its previous stellar season. A few episodes in the middle felt a little wheel-spinny, but those were offset by a different few episodes that were as near perfection as they come. BoJack, unlike any other show in recent memory, masterfully interweaves quick, razor-sharp, laugh-out-loud comedy with deep, sincere, introspective character beats. While it is tempting to say none of the characters really change, I think they do, albeit slowly, and maybe not exactly in the direction they are trying to. In fact, that change is a favorite theme of the show, at times explicitly, and there is much debate between the characters whether such change is possible.

Finally, on top of those ingredients, which existed in Season 2, but were refined and given even stronger life in Season 3, what I thought really made BoJack stand apart this season was its greater ambition in experimenting with structure and storytelling format. This is where it felt the most to me like Community at its peak, where certain episodes felt completely different than the episode before it, and the stylistic choices were not just stunts, but chosen for a reason that fit where the characters were, or were trying to speak to a message or a theme in a different way. This season really scratched that same itch as a Community in a lot of obvious ways: Community had a sort of surreal, absurdist, and somewhat cynical vibe, following characters who had all kind of failed in one way or another to get where they were, and struggle to redefine themselves. It would also weave back and forth between over-the-top hijinks, densely constructed visual gags and easter eggs, and grounded character moments.

What I admire about both is as crazy and usually hilarious as the comedy could be, it would always be there to serve the characters first. If you didn’t buy into their hopes and fears and flaws and desire to change, then none of it would work. Community was never really as dark as BoJack, however. You can sometimes get whiplash from how quickly you go from complete despair to maybe the funniest animal/celebrity pun you’ll hear all year. It’s this strong dichotomy and unpredictability and experimentation into topics that you really don’t see explored too much on even the more serious dramas that make BoJack Horseman completely unlike any other show before it. Oh, it’s also a cartoon.

 

After a somewhat aimless beginning in Season 1, this gem of a show has only continued to get better and better. While the backdrop of the tech industry in the 80’s serves as a useful framework and art direction, it’s the development of our core characters, their relationships, and their ideas, and how all of that evolves that make this show riveting, fascinating, and heartbreaking. One of the most potent scenes for me was one where they had very clearly and strongly established the points of view of a number of characters we cared about; their motivations were known, and we could easily see each of their points of view, none were clearly wrong, but their ideas conflicted. The argument was raw, painful, but inevitable. On paper it would have sounded like a dull board room meeting, but it was masterfully constructed, with no contrivance, just good people you desperately wanted to make things work, but knew just couldn’t. It was easily the most tragic moment for me on TV this year, but just highlighted a season full of meaty character moments, happy reunions, painful misunderstandings, and a whole host of other drama that can go along with trying to create something alongside the people you care most about. I am more than thrilled that it’s been given a fourth and final season to wrap things up.

 

This one probably won’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows me. Pretty sure I’ve raved into the ear of nearly everyone who would listen to me about the beauty that was Rectify this year. Not since Breaking Bad has my choice for #1 been so easy.

Now, I know some of you who haven’t seen either may be tempted to confuse it with the other “-tify” show, Justified. While yes, they do have similar titles, they couldn’t be more different. Justified takes place in Kentucky; Rectify, Georgia. Justified’s protagonist is a charming, intelligent southern man who’s had some misunderstandings with the law; Rectify’s Daniel Holden… well, those things, but doesn’t wear a hat. While Justified has a strong over-arching plot, its main draw is the whip-smart dialogue and comedic timing; Rectify has nearly no shootouts. Justified was the first show in my memory to go out on its own terms, and finish with its strongest season; Rectify was the second.

Okay, fine, I appreciate your patience in going through that little game with me. There are definite parallels that can be made between the two. But Rectify definitely had a very different voice, style, and message. It was certainly much smaller in scale. It was mainly about how a family copes with a major traumatic event: how to coexist with a town that looks down or feels sorry for you, the unseen strain it can place in the relationships. And most importantly how to heal, whether its finding spirituality, putting your faith in others, or just asking for help.

I wasn’t sure how they show would go on this season after where they left us last year. But I think Daniel’s new setting worked amazingly well, both from a character and narrative perspective. There was a lot of empathy and an almost The Wire-level exploration of well-meaning people who were trying to get their life back on track. And Daniel’s exasperation with feeling apart from everyone else led to one of the most moving and emotional scenes on the show, and acted as a climactic point in his character arc, and one told just so vividly and believably.

I also liked how this season was almost an 8-episode denouement. It allowed space for all the characters we’d grown to care about really come to terms with their new lives. Some things worked out superficially better than others, but every character had an arc, and found a way to find some measure of peace in their lives. While Season 3 really did much of the heavy lifting plot-wise, Season 4 was able to close out the story in a satisfying way that didn’t feel like it had a big bow on it.

Rectify is a show that has never been afraid to take its time. It won’t plow through plot points like a Justified. It will sit with the pain or the love or the tension its characters are feeling. But somehow it never drags. It is beautifully shot. The music is sparse, but extremely moving and affecting when that’s what the scene calls for. It masterfully weaves between sadness, relief, and hope, and will sneak attack you with a moment that will make you lose your shit laughing because it was so unexpected yet perfect for that moment.

It’s hard for me to explain the hope and joy I felt week after week for a show about a man who was released after 19 years on death row. It is such an unimaginable and heartbreaking situation, and sounds like a real bummer. And at times it can be sad, for sure. Maybe that’s what makes it such a great story, that someone who has been through that much, lost so much of their life, might actually find a way to be a full person again. I also give a lot of credit to Aden Young, who gives such a weighty and measured performance, and really makes us care, and feel his disorientation from being back in the world. He finds the perfect balance of gentle and weary, with a dry sense of humor, and just the slightest glint of danger. Our investment in Daniel as a person makes the trials and triumphs of his long journey were so compelling and meaningful, made us cringe, or laugh, or cry with joy.

The four season journey came to a marvelously watchable end last year, and that why it’s my unreserved pick for top show of 2016.