Best TV Shows of 2023 (So Far): 'Succession,' 'The Bear' and More

The first half of 2023 has seen some of the most acclaimed shows in recent memory conclude on their own terms. Fortunately, as the likes of “Barry” and “Succession” wound down, promising newcomers and returning favorites have made a case for optimism even in these series’ absence. From the plains of Kansas to an English palace to a California courtroom, great TV could come from anywhere — if not the “mind” of an artificial intelligence, whatever dystopia “Mrs. Davis” depicts (and the ongoing writers strike aims to prevent). These are one critic’s picks for the best television of the year thus far, plus a handful of honorable mentions. Plot points for certain series are discussed in detail, so spoiler-phobes beware.

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Barry

In its final two seasons, Bill Hader’s HBO half-hour veered away from the “hitman tries acting” setup that served as its initial premise, splitting the Hollywood satire off from the increasingly dark crime drama. But to close out its run, “Barry” ended with a brutal indictment of Hollywood storytelling that weaved its two halves together. Hader’s Barry dies at the hands of his former acting teacher Gene Cousineau, an abrupt end that at first seems like a long-overdue consequence. But in a coda set years later, Barry’s son watches a movie that depicts his father as a hero, and reveals that Gene is spending life in prison. “Barry” began as a dark comedy, then only got darker. Yet the show’s darkness never felt unearned, and a final season directed entirely by Hader illustrated it with surreal action and convincing horror.

Beef

From the moment a parking lot confrontation spins out into a Calabasas car chase, you never quite know where “Beef” is going next. The Netflix series, produced by A24, pairs Ali Wong and Steven Yeun as Amy and Danny, two lost souls from different class and racial backgrounds nonetheless alike in barely repressed rage. In a similar sense, the performers have had very different careers — Wong as a stand-up comedian; Yeun as an Oscar-nominated actor — yet quickly establish a shared wavelength. Their anti-platonic chemistry plays out at an unpredictable pace, flaring up and cooling down in several cycles over the series’ 10 episodes, then abruptly explodes into psychedelia. It’s rare for a show to defy a jaded viewer’s expectations, but “Beef” makes it look simple.

The Bear

Second seasons are make-or-break moments for buzzy series like “The Bear.” (Just look at “Yellowjackets,” which fumbled its own attempt at a follow-up earlier this year.) Fortunately, in its recent return to FX, the Chicago-set dramedy expanded its horizons, invested in its ensemble and corrected for some of Season 1’s weak spots. The Berzatto family continues to mourn the death by suicide of eldest son Mikey; their show also turns its attention to both the deeper roots of the Berzattos’ dysfunction and supporting players like pastry chef Marcus or Richie, the deadbeat “cousin” turned unlikely general manager. Stunt-casting abounds, with cameos from the likes of Bob Odenkirk, Olivia Colman, Will Poulter and John Mulaney. Yet just as its central restaurant invests in longtime employees, promoting line cook Tina to sous chef, “The Bear” yields greater rewards from giving the spotlight to its own regular cast.

Dead Ringers

Rachel Weisz has the dual role of a lifetime as the Mantle twins in “Dead Ringers,” taking the baton from Jeremy Irons’ turn in the David Cronenberg film of the same name. Gender-swapped reboots too often carry a whiff of sanctimony, but the Amazon series from playwright Alice Birch is as perverse and profane as any great Cronenberg homage. By making the Mantle twins obstetricians instead of gynecologists, “Dead Ringers” also adds an entirely new dimension with an ensuing emphasis on childbirth. In their iconic red scrubs, the Mantle sisters — reserved Beverly, reckless Elliott — seek out to revolutionize women’s experience of pregnancy and labor, a noble goal that leads them to professional compromise and personal ruin. “Dead Ringers” is more than a gimmick; it’s a cerebral spin on a nightmare.

Jury Duty

The year’s most pleasant surprise to date, the Freevee series blurs the line between prank show, documentary and scripted sitcom. It’s a close cousin to Nathan Fielder’s “The Rehearsal,” another jaw-dropping feat of comedic nonfiction. But where Fielder’s work is ethically knotty, especially when it comes to his unwitting subjects, “Jury Duty” has turned star Ronald Gladden into a national treasure. It helps that Gladden, a nonprofessional duped into serving on a fake jury with 11 paid actors (plus one obnoxious alternate), is only one scene-stealer among many, including James Marsden playing a caricature of himself. But amid the logistical gymnastics of staging a literal mock trial, Gladden’s sincere warmth offers an emotional entry point. A DVD copy of “A Bug’s Life,” offered as a gift to a fellow juror, has never been so endearing.

Mrs. Davis

Audacity goes a long way in selling “Mrs. Davis,” and there are few moves more audacious than making Jesus Christ Himself a member of your ensemble. The Peacock show is named after an all-powerful artificial intelligence that’s put an end to famine and war, but co-creators Damon Lindelof and Tara Hernandez are more interested in religious figures within this brave new world: the actual Holy Grail; Sister Simone, the nun on a quest for it; and her literal husband, the son of God, plus a late-season cameo from his mom the Virgin Mary. It’s a lot to take in, even before we get to the aggro Australian who uses Vegemite as skydiving fuel. “Mrs. Davis” has the confidence and humor — it launched on 4/20, after all — to help the audience adjust to all the show throws at them, helped by a grounding performance from lead actor Betty Gilpin. Whether or not you laugh at the final joke involving Buffalo Wild Wings, you have to admire the show for making it, or getting made at all.

Poker Face

Charlie Cale, the heroine of “Poker Face” played with hoarse-voiced verve by Natasha Lyonne, cannot abide a lie. “Poker Face,” the Peacock procedural created by director Rian Johnson in partnership with Lyonne and showrunners Nora and Lilla Zuckerman, is comfortable shifting shapes and adjusting the guise it presents to the world. As Charlie, on the lam from her ex-boss, crosses the country in her Plymouth Barracuda, “Poker Face” becomes a case-of-the-week mystery without the visual or structural monotony we expect from a procedural. Every episode may open, “Columbo”-style, with a depiction of the crime, but said crime could involve anyone from a racecar driver to a barbecue pitmaster to ex-hippie radicals. “Poker Face” poses questions about the value, and price, of telling the truth at all costs, then takes us along for the ride.

Queen Charlotte

Shonda Rhimes has long since shifted into the mogul-producer phase of her already legendary career. With “Bridgerton” prequel “Queen Charlotte,” though, Rhimes has proven she can still tap into the zeitgeist as a showrunner and screenwriter. A romance between the eponymous German princess and a dashing yet troubled King George III, “Queen Charlotte” deftly weaves together escapist fantasia and contemporary themes. Powered by the chemistry between India Amarteifio and Corey Mylchreest, “Queen Charlotte” splits its time between the ardor of young love and the perspective of middle age. Of all the “Bridgerton” franchise’s attempts to modernize the bodice-ripping romance, “Queen Charlotte” most effectively suspends our disbelief, in part by addressing subjects like race and mental illness head-on.

Somebody Somewhere

“Somebody Somewhere” star Bridget Everett is a big, loud, boisterous performer, often swigging from a wine bottle as she belts lewd cabaret numbers onstage. Which is why it’s so surprising that the HBO half-hour Everett headlines is a master class in understatement — a quiet, low-key, naturalist ode to found family in the American heartland, powered by the platonic chemistry between Everett and her frequent scene partner Jeff Hiller. Toward the end of the note-perfect second season, Everett’s Sam listens to a recording of a lesson with her late voice coach, who also taught her in high school. Simply watching the emotions silently play out on Everett’s face is as dramatic and attention-grabbing as her climactic performance of Laura Branigan’s “Gloria” in the finale. That “Somebody Somewhere” spans both extremes is part of its magic.

Succession

Nothing on TV in 2023 has made the inevitable seem as shocking and gripping as the final season of “Succession.” Of course patriarch Logan Roy had to die, triggering the titular transfer of power; of course none of his biological children, each damaged and incompetent in their own way, could take the reins. But even as it let the inevitable take hold, avoiding out-of-character surprise, “Succession” still stunned with the high-level craft that leaves a conspicuous vacuum at the medium’s creative apex. Under enormous pressure to conclude the Roy saga on a high note, creator Jesse Armstrong and his collaborators delivered some of the show’s best material yet, from Logan’s sudden death and its chaotic aftermath to Kendall’s rousing eulogy to one last, ambivalent look at Siobhan and her husband Tom, now CEO of her family’s company. Unlike its protagonists, “Succession” rose to the occasion.

Honorable mentions: Couples Therapy, Cunk on Earth, I’m a Virgo, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, The Other Two

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