TV's newest incarnation of Batwoman, Ryan Wilder, is Black.
The CW's Batwoman has always had a progressive streak. In the first season, Orange Is the New Black alum Ruby Rose plays Kate Kane, Bruce Wayne's cousin who dons the Batwoman cowl to protect Gotham City. Just like every other superhero show, Kate's romantic life factors into the plot. Unlike the rest, however, Kate is an out lesbian, making her the first leading lesbian superhero in television history.
Enter Javicia Leslie, former co-star of CBS comedy-drama God Unfriended Me. Prior to Leslie's casting, fans of the show wondered how Batwoman might handle the transition of actresses. Would Kate Kane just look completely different in season 2 with no canonical explanation?
Nope. As it turns out, Javicia Leslie's Batwoman will be an entirely new character: Ryan Wilder.
"I am extremely proud to be the first black actress to play the iconic role of Batwoman on television," said Leslie. "And as a bisexual woman, I am honored to join this groundbreaking show which has been such a trailblazer for the LGBTQ+ community."
While plenty of fans are incredibly excited about the announcement, there's another demographic that, both unfortunately and unsurprisingly, always seems to come out of the woodwork when a Black person is cast in a major role: racists.
But even though it's easy to chalk their complaints up to unabashed racism (mainly because their complaints are so deeply racist), there's a good chance that a lot of these complainers don't actually understand how racist they are. After all, when you dig into the content of their gripes, practically everything they say is based on logical fallacies and gaps in understanding.
There are two core arguments that (almost always) White Guys Angry About Black People on Their Screen like to offer:
1. The character is not Black in the source material (or as the guy in the above tweet puts it, "Batwoman was never black").
2. Why is it okay for Black people to play white characters but not for white people to play Black characters?
The answer is multifaceted, so let's start with the obvious.
Source material and their adaptations are, by design, canonically separate. The events in CW's Arrowverse, in which Batwoman takes place, hold no bearing on the events in the DC comics. In fact, the Arrowverse is only loosely based on actual events from the comics, and as such, there is no prior "canon" that the show even claims to be following.
Moreover, even in official comic series, superhero mantles are nebulous. Kate Kane is the first and best-known identity of Batwoman, but plenty of other characters have undertaken the role of Batwoman across various storylines—Brenna Wayne in Batman: Dark Knight Dynasty, Bette Kane in Titans Tomorrow, even Selina Kyle in Superman/Batman. There is no singular "Batwoman."
If you have a problem with Ryan Wilder, a brand new character, being black, but not with all the other spin-offs where Batwoman is any white woman other than Kate Kane, then congratulations: That's your racial bias on full display.
Next time one of these people posits, "Why don't they just make a new Black character instead of changing one that already exists?" you can feel free to reference Batwoman's Ryan Wilder and point out that they still whined about it.
But for the sake of argument, let's say that in the Arrowverse, they really did choose to depict Kate Kane as a Black woman instead of making the Black Batwoman an entirely new character. So what? Again, it is a loose adaptation, and even straight adaptations are allowed to take liberties. Tyrion lost his entire f*cking nose in the Game of Thrones books. The show made him significantly less hideous. Who cares? If you don't like it, become a director and make your own superhero movie.
Now onto the second part. Oftentimes, these complainers wonder why everyone else seems so fine with Black people portraying canonically white characters, but not the other way around. One of their most common examples, nowadays, is Black Panther. "Imagine if they made Black Panther a white person?" they suggest.
What they don't seem to realize is that Black Panther is literally the worst example they could use. Black Panther is a character whose entire background and history is part-and-parcel with his Black identity. He is the first superhero of African descent and the prince/king of a Sub-Saharan African country called Wakanda that is heavily based on Black African culture. Black Panther is not a character who happens to be Black. Black Panther's blackness is a significant part of his story.
The same cannot be said for the vast majority of white characters in comic books. After all, in Western countries, whiteness has historically been the default. Whereas most Black people in the West share common experiences of racism and discrimination, white people don't actually have any shared cultural experiences as a whole. There's Irish culture and Nordic culture and Russian culture (etc.), but there's no such thing as "white culture."
Thus, whiteness is not an integral part of the vast majority of white characters' actual stories. Rather, white characters' experiences tend more to reflect the default imaginary experiences of a nerdy kid in the big city, a rich crime-fighting vigilante, or a woman from an island of warrior women. Those imaginary experiences can, presumably, apply to someone of any color skin because those characters' skin color is effectively irrelevant.
Of course, if you want to write a story about a white guy who lives in the Sub-Saharan African country of Wakanda and dons the mantle of Black Panther in order to lead a group of people based on Black African culture, you're welcome to do that. That said, you'll have some very challenging story roadblocks ahead of you if you want that character to be believable, as you'll actually need to dive into his white identity in relation to the plot if you want to make the story work.
But the much broader answer to the overall question of: "Why is it okay for Black people to play white characters but not for white people to play Black characters?" is that the vast majority of big-budget movies and TV shows that get made are based on long-existing franchise properties starring default-white characters—and that leaves far fewer roles for anyone who isn't white.
If we want the characters we see onscreen to be representative of the diverse groups of people who make up "American culture," that means that sometimes we'll need to give the roles of once default-white characters to actors of color instead. The reverse—casting white actors in the roles of non-white characters—only serves to further the problem of limiting roles for actors of color.
Back to Batwoman. Remember that guy who said "Batwoman was never black?" He's right. There was never a Black Batwoman before. Thankfully, now there is.
Some famous siblings like Chris Hemsworth and Liam Hemsworth, Jake Gyllenhaal and Maggie Gyllenhaal, the Olsen twins and the Kardashians basically come as a set. Others like Emilio Estevez and Charlie Sheen are less obvious. Today is the day we look deeper to celebrate all the celebrity siblings we've overlooked.
Alfie and Lily Allen
Game of Thrones character Theon Greyjoy is known for having a strong, fearless sister in Yara Greyjoy. And in real life, the actor who plays Theon—Alfie Allen—has a fearless older sister of his own. Singer-songwriter Lily Allen is known for her experimental pop music and her distinctive voice. Yara might not approve of Lily's style, but she definitely appreciate Lily Allen's fearless approach to music with her latest album No Shame.
Joseph and Ralph Fiennes
If you had to guess which of these brothers has played a high-ranking official of a fascist state who pursued a romantic relationship with a captive member of an oppressed class who worked in his house...you couldn't. Because the answer is both.
In Stephen Spielberg's 1993 classic Schindler's List, Ralph Fiennes portrayed Nazi commandant Amon Goeth, the sadistic head of a concentration camp who develops twisted feelings of "love" for his Jewish housemaid. And in Hulu's hit show Handmaid's Tale, Ralph's younger brother, Joseph Fiennes, plays Commander Fred Waterford, one of the leaders of Gilead, who falls for June Osborne, the captive handmaid who is supposed to bear his child.
Weird coincidence, or Fiennes family tradition?
Emily and Zooey Deschanel
This one is pretty obvious once you know—their piercing blue eyes give it away—but the characters they play are so different that it's definitely surprising when you first make the connection.
While Emily Deschanel is known for her role as Temperance Brennan, the almost robotic titular medical examiner on Bones, her younger sister Zooey plays the quirky and colorful grade school teacher Jess Day.
Liev and Pablo Schreiber
You may know Liev Schreiber as the star of Ray Donovan, or for his portrayal of Sabretooth in X-Men Origins: Wolverine, but if you thought his facial hair in that movie was distinctive, it's nothing compared to his younger half-brother Pablo Schreiber's so-called "p*rn-stache" in the hit Netflix show Orange is the New Black.
Pablo is also known for his role as Nick Sobotka, one of the main protagonists in season two of The Wire.
Scott and Chris Evans
While Chris Evans has been launched to a-list status by his role as Captain America in the Avengers movies, his younger brother Scott Evans isn't quite as well-known.
Prior to his role as Sol and Robert's closeted, musical-loving neighbor Oliver on Grace and Frankie, he was best known for playing police officer Oliver Fish on the soap opera One Life to Live.
Jonah Hill and Beanie Feldstein
Lots of people have already pointed out the numerous similarities between 2007's Superbad and the 2019 hit Booksmart. Both movies star a pair of best friends trying to break out of their usual mold and attend a blowout party just before high school graduation, and the parallels don't stop there.
But if there was any doubt that Booksmart director Olivia Wilde was making a spiritual successor to Superbad, consider that Beanie Feldstein who plays Molly, is actually Jonah Hill's little sister.
Once you see it, the family resemblance is clear, but the fact that they don't advertise their siblingdom makes for a fun easter egg.
So, now that you know about six new pairs of surprising celebrity siblings, maybe you can surprise your own siblings by calling them when it's not their birthday... or not.
Jackie Cruz, star of Orange is the New Black and Good Girl, releases the music video for "Be Bad," a song about feminism and inclusivity.
In the video, Jackie portrays Lilith, who, because she isn't obedient, is replaced by Eve in the Garden of Eden. Feeling discarded, Lilith regains her self-assurance by asserting her worth as an individual. Fusing R&B with electro-pop, Jackie employs her powerful voice to assert her independence. "All aside / Doesn't matter / You do what you want to do and climb the ladder / … Be bad, not good."
Jackie Cruz - Be Bad (Official Music Video)youtu.be
As far as Netflix original series go, The Chilling Adventures Of Sabrina The Teenage Witch is a well-curated playlist of supernatural entities, occult practices, and teenage angst.
The third season delivered all the demonic drama we've been waiting for. Viewers reconnected with Sabrina, who is somewhere between being the Queen of Hell and just a "normal" teenage witch in Greendale. In Hell, Sabrina must defeat Caliban, who (if you didn't have to read The Tempest in high school) is the son of the witch Sycorax. Back in Greendale, the witches, mortals, and summoned hedge witches come together to fight a war with the pagans.
In episode one, we find Prudence (Tati Gabrielle) and Ambrose (Chance Perdomo) being led on a wild goose chase around the world as they look for Faustus Blackwell. Their latest chase brings them to New Orleans, where Ambrose begins to give up hope, but Prudence realizes there is witchcraft in the world that their former high priest does not know of.
The Introduction of Voodoo Priestess Mambo Marie
To search for Faustus in a more efficient manner, the pair make their way to a shop owned by a mysterious yet enticing Voodoo priestess. We meet a Black woman who introduces herself as, "Mambo Michele Marie Le Fleur, Priestess of High Haiti, Daughter of the Tiano people, faithful to Guinee" and informs the witch and warlock that she "don't do none of this watered-down New Orleans Voodoo Hoodoo bullsh*t." It's inferred that Mambo Marie is a descendant of the famous Voodoo queen of New Orleans Marie Laveau, though the show has yet to confirm this theory. When Ambrose and Prudence tell Marie their dilemma, she guides the duo through the recipe of a locator spell by working with blood magic.
This scene, while small (and overlooked in many recaps of the season) is a major step in the right direction towards including Black spiritualism in TV storylines. Mambo Marie (Skye P. Marshall) is the first introduction to Voodoo in the series, prompted by Prudence's (another Black woman's) intrigue and interest in a new spiritual practice. A later scene shows Ambrose and Prudence performing the blood magic ceremony over a map of the world, subsequently leading them to the location of Father Blackwell. Mambo Marie states that the ritual requires something belonging to the person they're searching for, and they end up using Prudence's blood. Altogether, the scene evoked the origins of Voodoo.
Chilling Adventures of Sabrina | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
Voodoo, also Vodou, was brought to French Louisiana in 1719 by captive West Africans through their various ethnic groups from (what is now recognized as) the Republic of Benin, east of Nigeria. These groups (Bambara, Mandinga, Wolof, Ewe, Fulbe, Fon, Yoruba, Chamba, Congo, Ibo, Ado, Hausa and Shango) continued their spiritual practices and ancestral worship through the use of herbs, their native tongue, song and dance, charms, spells, amulets and more. Each group is recognized as having an integral part in the growth of Voodoo as a faith, combining elements and knowledge through the generations.
It is heavily documented that the Haitian Revolution (1791-1804) was powered by allegedly possessed slaves guided by the Yoruba orisha (or god) of war, blood, and iron, Ogun, during a Voodoo ritual in Bois Caïman. This ritual is famously known as the Bois Caïman Ceremony and is historically the reason Haitians were victorious against the French in this war.
Mambo Marie's Contribution to the Coven
The Voodoo priestess makes a return appearance in episode 5 after being presumably summoned by Zelda Spellman in an open call for all hedge witches (or witches not belonging to a coven) to help in the war against the pagans. Episode 6 opens with a sister circle of witches from diverse backgrounds, including the Icelandic cannibalistic Christmas witch, Gryla; the Norwegian witch of disease and plague, Pesta; and Sycorax, an evil witch from the city now known as Algiers.
Out of anger and confusion, Pesta attempts to attack Zelda for summoning them, only to be stopped by Mambo Marie, who reminds them all, "We do not need to fight each other, that is what men do. But we are women, n'est-ce pas (isn't that so)? Witch women. We can do more than fight, can we not?"
Later in the episode, she introduces the girls of the coven, formerly known as The Church of Night (later named The Order of Hecate), to a traditional Haitian Voodoo dance of protection. This unknown ceremony being performed within the Academy is not initially welcomed by Zelda Spelman. After a private conversation with Marie, Zelda realizes that she's nonthreatening and a potentially beneficial presence in the church (in more ways than one).
With powerful performances in just a handful of scenes, Mambo Marie has solidified herself as a recurring character in the show, not only as Zelda's love interest but as a solid representation of Louisiana Voodoo (Sorry AHS: Coven) that fans are ready to see.
Thanks to streaming platforms like Netflix and Hulu, it was suddenly possible to watch multiple episodes of a single TV series in one sitting without the interruptions of commercials. As the way we watched TV changed, so too did the kind of shows we watched. Gone was the overabundance of vapid, sugary-sweet sitcoms, and in came the era of political satire, dramatic comedies, and searing commentaries on everything from abortion to Hollywood. Summarily, the 2010s saw a golden age of television. Here are our 50 favorites, with the top 25 and bottom 25 listed in alphabetical order.
The Top 25 TV Shows of the 2010s
Atlanta
Atlanta first aired in 2016, with Donald Glover's Earn learning that his cousin Alfred has released a hit song under the stage name Paper Boi. Since then, the show has followed Earn's struggle to navigate different worlds as he takes over managing his cousin's burgeoning music career while also trying to be a good father to his daughter, Lottie, and to prove himself to Van, his ex-girlfriend and Lottie's mother. The show uses varying perspectives to flesh out the city of Atlanta and the complexities of being black in America with surreal touches that highlight the real-world absurdity. Yet despite the heaviness of much of its subject matter, it frequently manages to be among the funniest shows on TV.
Barry
For anyone who ever wondered whether or not SNL-alum Bill Hader could carry a serious TV show, Barry answers with an overwhelming "yes." To be clear, Barry is technically a dark comedy, or perhaps a crime comedy-drama, but Bill Hader brings a level of unprecedented seriousness to his titular character that oftentimes makes the show feel like a straight tragedy.
Playing a hitman who wants to leave his life of crime behind in order to pursue a career in acting, Bill Hader imbues Barry with an earnestness that makes us as an audience truly want him to succeed. This likability serves to make Barry's violent acts all the more disturbing. Barry's greatest success is its ability to effortlessly fluctuate between the quirks of life as a struggling actor in LA and the violent inclinations of a man who murders for a living and can never really escape that truth. It's one of the best character studies currently on TV and is sure to cement Bill Hader as an extremely versatile A-list talent.
Baskets
Baskets premiered on FX in 2016, telling the story of Chip Baskets, an aspiring clown played by Zach Galifianakis, who is moving back to Bakersfield, California to live with his mother after a failed stint at clown school in Paris. Galfianakis' talent for melancholy slapstick makes the show by turns hilarious and touching, but it's his mother Christine Baskets—artfully portrayed by Louie Anderson—whose simple enthusiasm for small-town life makes the show one of the best of the decade. Watching Christine, Chip, and his twin brother Dale (also Galifianakis) heighten relatable family drama to exquisite absurdity never gets old.
Black Mirror
Nothing would be the same without Black Mirror. Though its later seasons have been inconsistent in quality, its earliest contributions were digital horror at its finest, with some of the episodes being downright visionary in terms of how accurately they predicted the near future. From the nostalgic visions of virtual afterlife in "San Junipero" to the eerie foresight of "Nosedive" and its digital ranking systems, Black Mirror made an indelible impact.
Bob's Burgers
Whatever you've heard about Family Guy or South Park, Bob's Burgers is the true successor to the golden age of The Simpsons. The Belcher family offers an update to The Simpsons' satirical view on middle class family life that reflects how America has changed since the 90s—slightly more urban, with less overt child abuse and a lot more economic precarity. And just as with the best seasons of The Simpsons, Bob's Burgers maintains a touching core of familial love and solidarity amid the absurd hijinks and veiled political commentary. Throw in the added value of the frequently hilarious, occasionally moving musical numbers, and Bob's Burgers easily secures a spot as one of the best shows of the decade.
Bojack Horseman
In terms of the quality of its writing, BoJack Horseman outdid itself season after season. What began as a parody of Hollywood's excesses quickly turned into a searing, and boundary-pushing meditation on depression, addiction, and what it means to change (or to be unable to). Increasingly self-aware and conscious of its hypocritical tendency to obsess over the misadventures of an evil but sympathetic celebrity, thereby glorifying them while criticizing them, BoJack Horseman is the political, devastating, timely, often hilarious show about an animated horse that none of us knew we needed. It's buoyed by the strength of its secondary characters, from the workaholic Princess Carolyn to asexual Todd to self-loathing Diane, and altogether the show takes deep-rooted fears that many share and refracts them in a funhouse mirror that's impossible to look away from.
Broad City
Ilana Glazer and Abbi Jacobson began producing an independent web series about their struggles to "make it" in New York City in 2009. Soon, Amy Poehler took interest in the series, and it moved to Comedy Central in 2014. The smash hit comedy was not only laugh-out-loud funny, but a beautiful portrait of a genuinely healthy, supportive female friendship—something TV has historically seen little of. Broad City can be credited for helping to usher in a new generation of female comedy creators and has become a cultural touchstone for millenials.
Catastrophe
Catastrophe, created and written by the show's stars, Rob Delaney and Sharon Horgan, is one of the realest, grossest, and funniest takes on love and the mess of life. Two people entering middle age meet and hit it off, they spend a reckless night together, and when she gets pregnant, they decide to make things work—not realizing how complicated that will be. It's a simple enough premise, but the cutting dialogue and the absurd comedy that plays out as two near-strangers build a life together make Catastrophe one of a kind.
Fargo
Anthology series like True Detective and American Horror Story can be really hit or miss, but in the three seasons that have aired on FX since 2014, Fargo has been consistently great. Maybe it has to do with the leisurely production schedule, the all-star cast, or the near-perfect movie that forms the basis for its tone, but whatever the cause, Fargo delivers murderous midwestern tragicomedy better than any show on TV—and nearly as well as the original. Season three, which followed the rivalry of the Stussy brothers—as played by Ewan McGregor—deserves a particular call-out, with season four due next year and featuring Chris Rock, Timothy Olyphant, and Jason Schwartzman.
Fleabag
Phoebe Waller-Bridge's stage-play-turned-two-season-TV masterpiece took the world by storm at the end of the 2010s. In the series, the viewer is made into the protagonist's (an unnamed woman played by Bridge) confidante as she uses sex to cope with grief and complicated family dynamics. As the show progresses, the closely protected inner life of the protagonist begins to reveal itself. Many consider the second season to be an essentially perfect season of television, in large part because of the hot priest (played by Andrew Scott). Fleabag is a funny, searing commentary on what it means to exist as a sexual, complicated being in a world with ever-changing expectations of women.
Grace and Frankie
70 is the new 30, or 20, or whatever arbitrary year of life we as a culture are deciding to glorify for no reason, because age is just a number. If you weren't aware that Jane Fonda glowed with money or that Lily Tomlin is our collective spiritual mother, then Grace and Frankie enlightened you. When two septuagenarian women are told that their husbands are gay and in love with each other, the best phase of their lives begins.
Haikyu!!
It's almost 2020, the world is upside down, and yes, an anime about high school volleyball is genuinely one of the best shows of the decade. Haikyu!!, literally "Volleyball" in Japanese, is about the trials and tribulations of the Karasuno High School Boys Volleyball Team. Unlike pretty much every other high school sports anime out there, Haikyu!! takes a relatively realistic approach to...well...high schoolers playing sports. In doing so, Haikyu!! translates the genuine passion that goes into high school sports and the real dynamics of teamwork, better than any other show I've ever seen.
The protagonist, Hinata, isn't a superpowered Volleyball God; he's an extremely short boy who can't reach the top of the net, but works his butt off because he loves the game. Likewise, all the other boys in Haikyu!! have realistic strengths and weaknesses (both on and off the court) that they work to overcome with help from their teammates. Haikyu!! is an exercise in wholesomeness––there are no villains, just other kids at other schools who love the same sport our boys do––and in a decade full of so much bitterness, it's a much needed dose of medicine.
Hunter x Hunter
For anyone who likes long-running shonen anime, Hunter x Hunter is, without a doubt, the pinnacle of the genre. While the original manga began publication in 1998, and a previous anime adaptation ran from 1999-2001, the 2011 adaptation re-started the series from scratch and, most importantly, covered the Chimaera Ant arc (or season––kind of––for you non-anime watchers).
The entirety of Hunter x Hunter is fantastic, featuring likeable protagonists, dastardly villains, and a brilliantly creative power system called "Nen." But there's a reason the Chimaera Ant arc is often considered the greatest shonen arc ever, and that's because it's a total deconstruction of the genre's tropes and conventions. Everything from the "always optimistic protagonist" to "the ultimate evil villain" is turned completely inside-out. The Chimaera Ant arc is intensely brutal and ultimately poignant, making us question the very nature of what makes us human.
Killing Eve
Phoebe Waller-Bridge can do no wrong, and even if she could and did, I'd probably still clap. The combination of Waller-Bridge's cutting wit and Sandra Oh and Jodie Comer's flawless performances makes for a TV show that never quite lets you find your balance before sending you spinning again. It's dark and surreal, while managing to still be deeply human.
Marvelous Mrs. Maisel
Being a professional stand-up comedienne is hard, but being Midge Maisel is wrapping chaos in a designer dress. Created by the fast-talking husband and wife behind Gilmore Girls, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel created a stage for Rachel Brosnahan to showcase her comedic timing and Alex Borstein to be a solid, deadpan pillar within Mrs. Maisel's world of quippy, fast-talking, energy. Also Michael Zegen (Joel) is dead cute.
Mob Psycho 100
While One Punch Man might be manga artist One's best known series (and is fantastic in its own right), his other series, Mob Psycho 100,is profound in a way quite unlike anything else I've seen. The show revolves around Mob, an awkward, unconfident middle school boy with god-like psychic powers. Any other shonen anime would use this premise as a gateway to epic battles (and there are a few, and their animation is absolutely incredible), but Mob Psycho 100 focuses far more on the coming-of-age angle instead.
See, Mob doesn't like his psychic powers because they make him feel weird. So instead of focusing on the one thing he's innately talented at but doesn't like, Mob tries to improve himself in the ways he actually cares about improving––making friends, talking to girls, working out with his school's Body Improvement Club. If anything, Mob's incredible psychic powers are a backdrop for the show's larger message––that no person, no matter what natural abilities they may have, is better than anyone else. Mob Psycho 100 shows that everyone has their own struggles, and that the only person you should ever hold yourself up in comparison to is the person you were yesterday.
The OA
Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij's labyrinthine show only ran for two seasons, but it managed to earn a cult following during that time. Deeply weird, profoundly earnest, and full to the brim with observations on the connections between the environment, parallel universes, and technology, the two seasons that we do have are irreplaceable and paradigm-shifting examples of what TV could become, if we let ourselves believe.
Orange Is the New Black
Piper Kerman's post-grad rebellious stage went from a felony to a cultural touchstone. As Netflix's most-watched original series, OITNB boasted a female-led cast and cutting commentary on race, class, and the industrial prison complex.
PEN15
Those who didn't have a gruelingly awkward middle school experience are, by scientific evidence, simply inhuman. Maya Erskine and Anna Konkle tell it best in Hulu original PEN15, which co-stars the real-life BFFs (who also wrote and executive produced together) as 13-year-olds. Here, there's no sugarcoating the calamities of tweenhood, whether they're as trivial as thongs and AIM messaging or as weighty as race identity. All delivered with Erskine and Konkle's razor-sharp wit, it's absolutely hysterical to anyone who's lived past the seventh grade.
Rick and Morty
"To be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand Rick and Morty. The humour is extremely subtle, and without a solid grasp of theoretical physics most of the jokes will go over a typical viewer's head."
Okay, so first things first, we need to separate Rick and Morty from the Rick and Morty fandom. The Rick and Morty fandom is so annoying that memes making fun of them are barely distinguishable from the things they actually say. But, to be fair, Rick and Morty really is a great show full of smart writing, surprisingly deep characterization, and the exact kind of bizarre, abstract humor that lends itself perfectly to endless memes. No doubt, Rick and Morty will be the defining animated comedy of the 2010s.
Russian Doll
This tightly-wound and big-hearted thriller stars Natasha Lyonne as a jaded New Yorker who gets caught in a loop in time and has to relive the night of her 36th birthday party over and over again. A perfect blend of humor and seriousness, and riddled with quantum leaps and profound connections, it's as satisfying as it is provocative.
Shameless
We fell in love with the trainwreck family the Gallaghers when it debuted on Showtime in 2011. William H. Macy brought so much toxic charm to the abusive and neglectful father Frank Gallagher that we actually found him, if not likable, then good television. Emmy Rossum managed to cause tears and laughter within the same scene, and the entire cast was as impressive as their characters were appalling.
Shingeki no Kyojin (Attack on Titan)
After the first season of Attack on Titan premiered in 2013, it received so much hype that even people outside of the anime community were raving about it. The show featured an incredibly high-concept premise, following the last surviving humans as they tried to fight back against giant, man-eating monsters called Titans. Had Attack on Titan stuck to that premise, it would have been top-notch action-horror, albeit not necessarily one of the best shows of the decade.
But Attack on Titan turned out to be so much bigger than its initial premise. As the seasons progressed, Attack on Titan reshaped itself time and time again, leading viewers through an increasingly complex, expertly plotted narrative featuring some of the most compelling characters and intensely emotional moments that I've ever experienced in fiction. At its core, Attack on Titan is a deeply thematic contemplation on war, othering, and humanity's will to survive against impossible odds, alongside the moral sacrifices they oftentimes make to do so.
Shrill
It shouldn't be revolutionary for a show to feature a fat female lead, but it is. Shrill, the brilliant Hulu adaptation of Lindy West's memoir, Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman, gave audiences a badly needed narrative about a woman who is actively seeking to change her life for the better, in ways that have nothing to do with her body. It's funny, it's heartfelt, and it shows a woman getting an abortion and finding it empowering. Woah. Hell yes.
Steven Universe
When Steven Universe first aired on Cartoon Network in 2013, it was a light-hearted and silly children's show with some super-powered action from the Crystal Gems and a lot of silly jokes from their sidekick—the childish titular character. Since then an entire galaxy has been fleshed out around the boardwalk of Beach City where much of the show takes place. Along with the alien gem creatures and their elaborate history, the show has introduced us to a cast of characters that have grown and changed—overcoming insecurities and facing complex questions of love and identity. While Steven matured and developed into a hero worthy of his last name, the show evolved to become one of the best of the decade.
Netflix's new series, Daybreak, sells itself as a post-apocalyptic teenage Rashomon (the Japanese classic told in divergent perspectives), with a sequence of characters in the trailer each claiming to be the real protagonist.
At its best, the show does capture some of this appeal. It almost makes up for the lack of believable dialogue, compelling world-building, or competent portrayal of youth culture by having a diverse array of vibrant characters—like Wesley Fist, the gay black samurai whose story is narrated by Wu Tang's RZA. But ultimately, the claim that these characters have equal weight is undermined by the show's insistent focus on Colin Ford as "just Josh."
He's the bland white guy at the center of the story, because that's something Netflix thinks we need. Prior to the apocalypse, he was just a C-student, a recent transfer from Toronto who claimed to only like food from The Cheesecake Factory. He's continually mistaken for "tennis Josh, little Josh with the big truck, gay Josh, and other gay Josh," to which his friends respond that he's "just Josh." His love interest, Sam Dean (a deliberate nod to Colin Ford's stint on Supernatural?) describes him as "terrifically uncomplicated."
After the bombs drop and all the adults are wiped out, Josh's wilderness skills make him a hot commodity, but it all just reads as an excuse to cast the blandest possible white guy and force all the more interesting characters into orbit around him.
As a bland white boy myself, can we please just stop?
There's no need to plaster on a confused approximation of wokeness (no, Daybreak, you can't say "Todd Altman self-identifies his gender as a seahorse" in a hip, accepting way…) and qualify your main character's bland whiteness by saying "but he's supposed to be boring!" What you can do is skip all that by ditching the bland white guy character in the first place.
While Sam Dean—a blonde, sex-positive Pollyanna with an English accent and a heavy dose of damsel in distress—is a shade more interesting than "just Josh," they could both be removed from the show without losing much value. But nope. Daybreak makes them the center of the whole world.
I mean, there's a turf war for control of hellscape-LA, with cliquish tribes—a la The Warriors—all vying for power. That's pretty fun. And, oh boy! There are even a handful of novel, dynamic characters who are engaging enough to warrant a focus in that unfolding war. Yay! But no. The show insists that Josh's quest to rescue Sam is the really important story.
Why? Josh just sucks. He feels bad that, pre-apocalypse, he called Sam a sl*t, and he wants to save her so he can win her back. Why should we root for that? He called her a sl*t because she's too cool for him—and she's barely cool. He's the blandest flavor of cottage cheese in a toxic-masculine shell. Even if Colin Ford delivered a stellar performance, it's hard to see how this sh*tty character would be salvageable, let alone worthy of the central role. And Colin Ford is faaaar from stellar...
So, Netflix. Do better. You seem to have the freedom to green-light whatever you want, so why keep centering your stories on the same lame characters? Why is a WASPy half-nerd white guy still the default? Speaking on behalf of us all, even we're bored of us by now.