Check Top 10 Netflix Original Series of Recent Times- Must Watch
I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson
It may be argued that I Think You Should Leave is Netflix’s sole flawless offering to date. Both seasons of the sketch comedy series created by former Saturday Night Live writers Tim Robinson and Zach Kanin are short, glorious bursts of bizarre humour that could only exist in a world without studio notes and without executives asking the writers to explain just why the concept of “sloppy steaks” is so funny. The show provides a venue for both newcomers like Patti Harrison and Conner O’Malley and established names like Vanessa Bayer, Cecily Strong, Fred Willard, Andy Samberg, Steven Yeun, and Tim Heidecker to showcase their craziest comedic chops. The genius of ITYSL lies in the fact that it can make even the most ordinary of events, such as a birthday celebration or a flight, into a work of absurdist art. Even though the “good steering wheel” man from the automobile focus group, Dan Flashes, and the person who does not know how to drive have all become internet memes, the deep, incomprehensible humour that permeates every skit is a breath of new air. Where else except in a parody of pornographic phone apps would you see a man dressed as a hot dog drive a wiener automobile through a store window?
A cynical New Yorker (Natasha Lyonne) tries to understand why she keeps dying and reliving her 36th birthday over and over again in this serial take on Groundhog Day that, over the course of two seasons, evolves into a philosophical masterwork about inherited pain and guilt. Season 1 of the show, which premiered in 2019, was a hilarious and deft exploration of what happens if you repeatedly die and repeatedly wake up in a bathroom in Alphabet City with a strange door during a party with Harry Nilsson playing. The show was created by Lyonne and co-executive produced by Amy Poehler and Leslye Headland. Season 2 was Lyonne’s to create as showrunner; she used time travel to tell a family story set against the backdrop of the Holocaust. Russian Doll has become a beautiful and fascinating exorcism, and Lyonne’s portrayal as Nadia is a pleasure because to her chimney-like smoking and careful enunciation of the term “cockroach.”
It is odd to put it in writing, but one of the funniest and most realistic depictions of sadness on television today is a cartoon about a talking horse. Of course, this is the case. Join Will Arnett’s voice-over protagonist, Bob Hoskins, on his journey to Hollywood and atonement, and you will be treated to hilarious visual jokes, witty banter, complicated characters, and real feelings. BoJack is a show we heartily endorse because it concluded its stellar six-season run on a high note.
David Fincher (Se7en, Zodiac) has always had a morbid interest in serial murderers, and thus it seemed only natural that he would bring his dark, gloomy approach to Netflix for a series in this vein. The show is based loosely on the non-fiction book of the same name and follows FBI wunderkind Holden Ford (Jonathan Groff), his mentor Bill Tench (Holt McCallany), and psychologist-turned-consultant Dr. Wendy Carr (Anna Torv) as they try to create a division of the FBI tasked with solving a “new kind of crime” that lacks what most law enforcers think of as rational motives. Of sum up, they are creating the precursor to the well-known “FBI profiler” division, which is tasked with recognising psychopaths among criminals. Mindhunter was a subtle, tautly filmed portrait of life on humanity’s outskirts, balancing suspenseful jailhouse interview sequences with clichés of cop thrillers. It is that unusual thing: a programme that can be seen all at once and still be appreciated with thought. Fincher opted to finish the programme early so he could focus on other projects, therefore we will never know how the BTK Killer footage from Season 2 were supposed to go together. At least fans of real crime and high-end television had as many seasons as we did.
Season 1 of The OA was a crazy trip, ranging between hokiness and genius in about equal measure—but it was definitely doing something, and that was what made it so bingeable. Season 2, however, is a revelation, and puts The OA in rare company of wacky TV dramas that nonetheless make sense on an emotional level. A young blind woman, Prairie Johnson (Marling), returns to her sleepy hometown seven years after going missing and finds that her eyesight has been mysteriously restored. The show was created by Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij, who also directed the mind-bending thrillers The Sound of My Voice and The East. In the present, she is a mentor to a bunch of unruly youngsters, and in the past, she was incarcerated in an underground jail operated by Jason Isaacs’s villainous Dr. Hap, and things only get crazier from there. Yes, there’s interpretative dance, too. Most of it does not work, and some of it shouldn’t, yet Marling and Batmanglij tackle the weird material with such conviction that it is difficult to resist their mind-bending vision. Netflix cancelled the programme after its second season despite its devoted fan base. RIP Old Night.
Why it took so long for a funny comedy to be made about pro wrestling is beyond me. GLOW, which was inspired by a real women’s wrestling promotion from the 1980s, takes a sunnier but still no-holds-barred approach to the subject of professional wrestling, in contrast to Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler, which turned the plight of a washed-up grappler into a Sisyphean struggle in spandex. Alison Brie does a great job in her role as an actress who is cast by a washed-up director (Marc Maron) to play the antagonist in the ensemble comedy Community, but it is the supporting cast members like Britney Young’s Machu Picchu, a second-generation brawler, who truly make the show successful. As such, it is one of the rare examples of popular culture that accurately portrays the allure of this “fake” sport.
Lupin is a French caper series on Netflix featuring Omar Sy (The Intouchables) as gentleman thief Assane Diop, and each episode builds to a revelation similar to the one at the end of an Ocean’s Eleven film. The clever villain steals disguises, the greedy thief pockets gems, and the dashing hero vanishes once more. Lupin and its constantly charming leading guy (and occasionally a very cute Jack Russell Terrier named J’accuse) execute each disclosure with a high degree of expertise as the danger and stakes rise increasingly greater; it is a classic heist-movie tactic that may seem monotonous or predictable in different hands. One of the best parts about seeing a presentation like this is being deceived.
More than just a dickjoke, the first season of this comedy follows a group of young documentary filmmakers as they investigate the guilt or innocence of a student (Jimmy Tatro) suspected of spray painting penises on the vehicles of instructors. After the first few episodes, the phallic content is toned down to allow the show to more effectively mock contemporary high school and the criminal justice system. The co-creators drew inspiration from the compelling styles of true-crime giants like Serial, Making a Murderer, and The Jinx, and the result is a remarkably nuanced programme that manages to be both a satire and a tribute while still being an absorbing teen drama. The second and final season doubles down on the excrement theme from the first, and it is just as devastatingly effective.
With the help of an animated time machine, Nick Kroll and his pals travel back to their awkward preteen years in Big Mouth, where they date, view porn, and begin to understand their own feelings and sexuality. Stars like John Mulaney, Maya Rudolph, Jenny Slate, Jordan Peele, and Fred Armisen, among many others, make appearances on the show. The programme takes no prisoners and uses the liberating medium of animation to explore some very uncomfortable subject matter (see: lusty Hormone Monsters, singing Michael Stipe tampons, terrifying Garrison Keillor sex dreams).
Dead to Me
After her husband is killed in a hit-and-run accident, Jen (Christina Applegate) attends group therapy with scepticism and cynicism in Liz Feldman’s Dead to Me. There, she meets Judy, played by Linda Cardellini, another mourner, and the two click immediately. Their connection is the type of caustic camaraderie you want for, but by the conclusion of the pilot it is evident that both ladies are keeping secrets. The tone of the 30-minute black comedy smoothly shifts from humorous to grim, and there are surprising turns of events in every episode. If you like seeing grownups say “screw it, I’m doing what I want,” then you will love Dead to Me.