If 2025 taught us anything, it’s that attention is the rarest currency left. Every platform wanted it. Every headline fought for it. And somehow, television still found ways to earn it the old-fashioned way, with characters you missed when the credits rolled, scenes that refused to leave your head, and stories that felt weirdly, urgently necessary.
This year’s best series didn’t just distract us from the world. They translated it. Anxiety became drama. Burnout turned into satire. Loneliness morphed into sci-fi. Hope showed up in forms you could actually believe in for an hour at a time. And maybe that’s why it hit so hard, because 2025 often felt like the outside world was written by a room of writers who hate notes and thrive on chaos. So thank God for television.
At its best, TV gave us everything this year: rebellion, horror, comedy, heartbreak, and the kind of craft that makes you sit up on the couch and think, wait… are we back? Are we doing good TV again?
And when we weren’t locked into prestige masterworks, we were watching beautiful trash with our whole chest. Self-care comes in many forms, and sometimes it wears a captain’s hat on a yacht. These are the shows that owned my year, from the serious heavy-hitters to the canceled-too-soon gems to the reality dirt I will never apologize for.
Reel 360 News’ Top TV of 2025
IT: Welcome to Derry (HBO Max)
IT: Welcome to Derry, doesn’t just expand the IT universe – it deepens it. Instead of relying on constant jump scares or nostalgia bait, the series commits to atmosphere, patience, and a slow, creeping sense of wrongness that seeps into every frame. Set decades before Pennywise’s familiar reign of terror, the show understands that the real horror of Derry isn’t just a monster in the sewers, it’s a town that survives by pretending not to see what’s happening
The young cast is the show’s secret weapon. These kids aren’t just scream machines; they’re grounded, lived-in, and heartbreakingly believable, selling fear not as spectacle but as something internal and isolating. You feel how dread changes them, how it teaches silence and compliance long before it teaches survival. Chris Chalk is a standout among the adults, bringing gravity and moral exhaustion to Dick Holloran, who senses the rot beneath the town’s cheerful surface but knows how dangerous it is to push back.
And yes, it’s scary as hell. Not loud scary. Lingering scary. The kind of horror that sits with you after the episode ends, where shadows feel a little deeper, and silence feels a little too intentional. The show’s most diabolical achievement might be its theme song, an instantly unforgettable piece of music that lodges itself in your brain like a nursery rhyme gone wrong — easily one of the catchiest, most unsettling TV themes in decades.
Welcome to Derry understands that fear works best when it’s earned, accumulated, and unavoidable. It’s not about the clown yet. It’s about the conditions that allow monsters to thrive.
Andor (Disney+)
If 2025 had a consensus “this is what TV can be” answer, it was Andor. Tony Gilroy’s second and final season didn’t just stick the landing; it detonated it. What began as a grounded rebellion story evolved into a devastating study of power, sacrifice, and the machinery of oppression.
Diego Luna’s Cassian Andor becomes less a hero than a consequence, shaped and broken by the systems around him, while Stellan Skarsgård’s Luthen Rael remains one of the most morally complex figures television has ever produced.
What sets Andor apart is patience. Gilroy trusts the audience to follow politics without lightsabers as punctuation. The writing, production design, and Nicholas Britell’s restrained score work in lockstep, making the galaxy feel lived-in and brutally real. This isn’t “prestige Star Wars.” It’s prestige television, full stop.
Pluribus (Apple TV+)
Vince Gilligan’s Pluribus is sci-fi for adults who don’t want answers spoon-fed. Rhea Seehorn delivers a career-defining performance as Carol, possibly the last autonomous human left after a quiet, eerie alien invasion turns everyone else into a soothing hive mind. The show’s power lies in restraint. There are no big invasion set pieces, only existential dread, loneliness, and the horror of being “taken care of” too well.
Gilligan once again proves he’s a master of slow-burn storytelling. Pluribus asks uncomfortable questions about conformity, control, and whether connection is worth the cost of individuality. It’s not built for casual scrolling, and that’s precisely why it matters.
The Pitt (HBO Max)
The Pitt feels like a throwback and a revelation at the same time. Set across one relentless 15-hour ER shift, the show strips the romance out of medicine and replaces it with exhaustion, triage, and moral compromise. Noah Wyle’s Dr. Robby anchors the series with quiet authority, but this is an ensemble triumph, giving long-overdue spotlight to performers like Katherine LaNasa while introducing new standouts.
The real-time structure is a gamble that pays off, forcing viewers to live through the stress rather than skip past it. In a landscape obsessed with bingeable spectacle, The Pitt reminds us why television’s original rhythms still work when the writing earns them.
The Studio (Apple TV+)
The Studio is Hollywood satire done right: insider-smart, affectionate, and merciless without being cynical. Seth Rogen leads a pitch-perfect ensemble that includes Catherine O’Hara, Kathryn Hahn, Chase Sui Wonders, and Ike Barinholtz, all weaponizing chaos with surgical precision. The show understands the absurdity of the entertainment business because it loves it, even while skewering it.
What makes The Studio stand out is tone. It never confuses cruelty for honesty. The jokes land because the characters feel human, not caricatured. In a year dominated by heavy themes, this was necessary, joyful escapism that still felt true.
Adolescence (Netflix)
Nothing hit harder in 2025 than Adolescence. Jack Thorne and Stephen Graham’s four-part miniseries arrived quietly and left scorched earth behind. Owen Cooper’s performance as a 13-year-old accused of murder is one of the most harrowing debuts in recent memory. The show’s exploration of incel culture, online radicalization, and toxic masculinity feels urgent without being exploitative.
The single-take episodes remove any emotional escape hatch. You sit with the discomfort, the confusion, and the fear in real time. Adolescence isn’t an easy watch, but it’s essential, a reminder of what happens when systems fail young people and pretend not to notice.
Severance (Apple TV+)
Season two of Severance deepened everything that made the first season iconic. Adam Scott, Britt Lower, John Turturro, and Zach Cherry continue to explore fractured identities in a workplace nightmare that feels increasingly prophetic. Patricia Arquette’s Harmony Cobel gains new emotional shading, while Trammell Tillman’s Milchick evolves into one of TV’s most unsettling figures.
The production design remains immaculate: sterile hallways, mid-century dread, and a score that hums with unease. What elevates Severance is its empathy. Beneath the surrealism is a very human question about what we sacrifice to survive capitalism. The show doesn’t answer it. It just keeps pressing.
Alien: Earth (FX on Hulu)
Noah Hawley’s Alien: Earth proves that franchise television can still surprise. Instead of nostalgia bait, Hawley leans into philosophy, body horror, and dread. The dual narratives of possessed children and a crashed Xenomorph vessel converge into a story about control, evolution, and free will.
Visually stunning and tonally confident, the series feels punk in spirit, capped by needle drops that give it an edge missing from recent Alien entries. It’s patient, terrifying, and unafraid to let ideas breathe. A rare adaptation that understands its DNA.
Wednesday (Netflix)
Season two of Wednesday doubles down on what worked while sharpening its gothic edge. Jenna Ortega remains magnetic, turning Wednesday Addams into a cultural icon for a new generation. The show balances mystery, deadpan humor, and emotional growth without sanding down the character’s bite.
Tim Burton’s influence still looms large, but the series finds its own rhythm, leaning into ensemble storytelling and macabre whimsy. It’s stylish, confident, and unapologetically weird, exactly what genre TV should be.
The Handmaid’s Tale (Hulu)
As it approached its final chapter, The Handmaid’s Tale returned to its roots: rage, resilience, and reckoning. Elisabeth Moss remains extraordinary, grounding the show’s operatic brutality in deeply personal pain. The series understands its legacy and doesn’t flinch from it.
While no longer shocking as it once was, the show’s endurance is its statement. It has always been less prophecy than mirror, and in 2025, that reflection still felt disturbingly relevant.
The Bear (FX on Hulu)
The Bear continues to be Chicago television at its rawest and most loving. Jeremy Allen White’s Carmy and his chosen family navigate ambition, trauma, and burnout with a tenderness that sneaks up on you. Christopher Storer’s commitment to place, sound, and chaos remains unmatched.
It’s messy. It’s indulgent at times. But it’s honest. Few shows capture the intersection of work and identity with this much intensity. You feel it in your chest.
The Franchise (HBO Max) (Canceled, undeservedly)
Gone too soon. The Franchise was a razor-sharp satire aimed directly at the absurdities of the superhero-industrial complex. Smart, fast, and unafraid to bite the hand that feeds Hollywood, it deserved a longer life.
Its cancellation in 2025 feels emblematic of the era: sharp comedy is risky, and risk rarely survives algorithms.
Bookie (HBO Max) (Canceled, frustratingly)
Chuck Lorre’s Bookie was better than anyone expected. Sebastian Maniscalco and Omar Dorsey found real chemistry, and the show balanced gambling comedy with character-driven storytelling. It should not have ended in 2025.
Hacks (HBO Max)
By now, it would be easy to take Hacks for granted. The awards. The quotes. Jean Smart being untouchable. But Season 4 reminded us why this show still matters. What began as a sharp comedy about generational ego clashes has evolved into one of the most emotionally precise series on television. Deborah Vance and Ava Daniels aren’t just sparring partners anymore.
They’re creative co-dependents, mirrors, and cautionary tales for anyone who’s ever tried to stay relevant without losing themselves. Jean Smart continues to deliver a master class in controlled ferocity, while Hannah Einbinder deepens Ava into someone both ruthless and heartbreakingly human. The writing remains surgical, balancing cruelty and compassion in the same breath.
Hacks understands that success doesn’t heal you, it just gives your damage a bigger stage. Few shows can be this funny, this cruel, and this generous at the same time.
Jurassic World: Chaos Theory (Netflix)
Chaos Theory had no business being this good, and that’s precisely why it worked. Instead of trying to out-roar the films, the animated series leaned into tension, ethics, and consequence. Set in the shadow of the Jurassic World fallout, the show explores what happens when science breaks containment and adults fail to clean up the mess.
The animation is sleek without being flashy, but the storytelling is what surprises. This is a series about accountability, fear, and survival in a world where the rules have already collapsed. The grown-up versions of the characters from Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous aren’t mascots or audience stand-ins. They’re fully realized, scared, angry, and forced to grow up fast. Dinosaurs remain terrifying, yes, but the real threat is human arrogance.
Chaos Theory proves that genre franchises can still evolve when they respect intelligence and emotional stakes. It’s smart, propulsive, and far more thoughtful than anyone expected, which, frankly, is the best compliment television can earn.
Reality Guilty Pleasures
Yes, they count. Big Brother, The Amazing Race, Vanderpump Rules, and Below Deck remain comfort food with chaos baked in. Sometimes you don’t want themes. You want mess. Television is allowed to be both.
And there you have it, the films that made 2025 unforgettable. Whether they shocked, inspired, or simply entertained, these movies reminded us why cinema holds a special place in our hearts. Here’s to the stories that moved us this year and to the ones waiting for us in 2026!
The Geek is a working screenwriter, director and screenwriting instructor.
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2025 in Review: The Best Films
