Max has always benefitted from being the home for HBO hits like Game of Thrones and The Last of Us, but the streamer produced some quality original programming right out of the gate, too. Hacks is a buzzy award winner, and shows like Peacemaker and The Sex Lives of College Girls have drawn eyeballs toward the former "HBO Max."
Given the volume of streaming content, and the number of shows Max has already produced, there are some great choices that might have flown under your radar. In our new era, in which good shows aren’t just canceled but erased from existence (ahem, Raised by Wolves), it never hurts to take a moment to consider the slightly less buzzy shows that are equally worthy of your attention. Max has begun to fall victim to the streaming implosion that's hitting pretty much every streaming service, but pretty much all of the already-ended shows here have some sense of completion.
The shows here are all Max originals, which means they were either initially produced for and/or are currently distributed exclusively by the streamer, at least in North America. Because of the existence of the hyper-mega-conglomerate that is WarnerMedia, that can get a little complicated, and shows get shared around a bit. So, when calling something an “Original,” I’m relying largely on Max’s own definition, even if they started life elsewhere.
After getting canceled over a tweet, 25-year-old writer Ava (Hannah Einbinder) struggles to get her career back in order, reluctantly taking a job for Deborah Vance (Jean Smart)—a comedy trailblazer who remains popular with an older Vegas crown, but whose career is largely on autopilot. They're an entirely mismatched pair, but their chemistry is ultimately explosive, with Jean Smart doing some of the best work of her incredible career as the (often) deeply unlikeable Vance, and Einbinder more than holding her own. It's funny, bitchy, and surprisingly moving when it wants to be.
Max’s early DC show was originally ported from the now-defunct DC Universe streamer (past and future episodes are now Max-exclusive), a largely forgotten effort. Thank goodness it survived; though ended after four seasons, it was an uncharacteristically bold and freaky entry in the superhero canon. Nearly indescribably weird, the show includes characters like the non-binary Danny the Street (a literal street), paranormal investigators the Sex Men, Imaginary Jesus, and orgasm-generating body builder Flex Mentallo—while also grounded in some really excellent, frequently emotional character work from the entire cast, including Brendan Fraser, Matt Bomer, Michelle Gomez, and Timothy Dalton. It’s also very queer and sex positive, making it a standout among the usually chaste and straight world of superhero cinema.
Kaley Cuoco plays hard-living (i.e. alcoholic) flight attendant Cassie Bowden, who, in the first episode, wakes up in a Bangkok hotel room with no memory of the night before. Which could be a good thing or a bad thing, given that she's sharing a bed with a dead passenger from her last flight. Afraid to call the police, she tries, on her own, to piece together the increasingly convoluted memories of that last night. Impressively twisty-turny, but also with a hallucinogenic sense of fun, it's an impressively unique show that earned several Emmy nominations, including for a great Cuoco. Despite generating plenty of buzz and seemingly good numbers, it was canceled after two seasons—which will become something of a theme with Max.
Kimberly (Pauline Chalamet) is an endlessly naïve scholarship student; Bela (Amrit Kaur), is an aspiring comedy writer on the make for the hottest guys; Whitney (Alyah Chanelle Scott) is an overachieving athlete and senator’s daughter; Leighton (Reneé Rapp) is a closeted sorority girl. They're randomly assigned to room together as freshmen at the fictional Essex College in Vermont, a mismatched quartet exploring young adulthood together. Created by Mindy Kaling and Justin Noble, the comedy-drama isn't nearly as salacious as its title suggests: There's sex, for sure, but like Sex and the City before it, the funny and queer-friendly show is more about female friendship.
The Hanna-Barbera cartoon pantheon has been largely dormant in recent decades, but this is a fun revisit, with the titular town serving as home to dozens of characters from back in the day, led by Mayor Huckleberry Hound, Yogi Bear (now a doctor at Jellystone Hospital), Augie Doggy, Jabberjaw, Top Cat, and dozens more, with out-of-towners like The Jetsons and Space Ghost popping in now and again. The show's silly, anarchic style is definitely not a one-for-one match to the source material, but it's not a terrible thing that the show is focused on appealing to modern kids rather than their parents (or grandparents, at this point). It's fun for that older elementary age group.
It was weird, but kinda cool, that the original Gremlins movie was marketed toward kids, given that the plot turns on moments like a Mogwai blowing up in a microwave and an anecdote about someone's dead dad mouldering in a chimney dressed like Santa Claus. That all being said, this animated prequel is legit kid-friendly, even if it doesn't shy away from the Looney Tunes-esque style of the live-action movies. It also takes the awkward Orientalism of those movies and makes it a virtue: Sam Wing (played by Hollywood legend Keye Luke in Gremlins) is, here, a 10-year-old boy who meets Gizmo and is then forced to join him on a journey through the Chinese countryside, sometimes encountering mythical creatures. The stacked voice cast includes Izaac Wang, Ming-Na Wen as Fong Wing, B. D. Wong, and the great James Hong.
Heléne Yorke and Drew Tarver stars as a couple of meandering siblings whose lives are turned upside down when their younger brother becomes a viral sensation. The show has a lot of fun dissecting modern pop culture, and, though it has a sweet side, it’s some of the best cringe comedy you'll find on Max. As class satires go, it never quite achieved Succession levels of obsession, but deserves a bit more love.
Your tolerance for Ansel Elgort may vary (given assault allegations), but he stars here alongside always-welcome Japanese actors Ken Watanabe and Rinko Kikuchi as a young journalist who becomes embedded with veteran detectives in Tokyo’s vice squad circa 1999. The show pays tribute to both the glitzy and wonderfully seedy aspects of the title city, while also working as an effective crime drama set in a very different context from more typical America-set shows.
Issa Rae follows up Insecure with the story of socially conscious Miami rapper Shawna (Aida Osman), who winds up selling out, at least in her own eyes, when she teams up with her friend Mia (KaMillion), whose popular OnlyFans brings the new rap group a built-in fanbase. Meanwhile, Shawna’s boyfriend Cliff (Devon Terrell) has to come to terms with the fact that Shawna’s more commercial career path might put his dreams of political success in danger. Like Insecure, it’s deeply funny, but also has plenty to say about friendship and ambition between young Black women.
Finally: a reality show for people who love brunch (some of whom, I’m informed, might even be straight). Schitt’s Creek’s Dan Levy hosts the cooking show involving ten chefs competing for the money to make all their dreams come true (to the tune of $300,000)—but only if they can make the perfect brunch. The show avoids the stressful elements of a Gordon Ramsey-type competition, while being quite a bit funnier than a GBBO. It’s a solid entry in the reality-cooking world with a unique style, though its one-and-done single season (at least so far) will be a pro or a con depending on how hooked you find yourself.
Russell T. Davies (Queer as Folk, Doctor Who) revisits the 1980s through the story of a group of friends living in London during the height of the HIV/AIDS crisis. The miniseries brings an impressive cast to bear on a story that tracks them through the early days of queer liberation through the developing menace of a disease that no one in the broader world was willing to talk about, much less do anything about.
A funny and violent bright spot in the wildly convoluted onscreen world of DC Comics, Peacemaker spins out of James Gunn's snarky 2021 entry The Suicide Squad, with John Cena reprising his role. Having survived the events of that film, he's recruited once again by the United States government to join a team trying to stop mysterious butterfly creatures inhabiting human hosts. It's got the same bloody comic tone of the movie, but adds just enough dimension, and an emotional arc, to the the jingoistic superheroes' story that it's easy to root for him, even as his self-awareness remains limited.
Creators/writers Bashir Salahuddin and Diallo Riddle (who also have parts in the series) brought a unique style to their three-season sitcom set in Englewood—the close-knit cast and production crew (Bashir’s brother, Sultan, plays one of the leads) give the show a familial vibe. it follows two mismatched friends (Sultan Salahuddin and Kareme Young) trying to find success while running a rent-to-own store amid a widely diverse ensemble, and trying to find some kind of accord with the local PD.
An original production from Sesame Workshop, each episode of the docuseries deals with a distinctive issue facing children, and each is directed by a different talented and acclaimed director. The four current episodes engage with kids with incarcerated parents, families displaced by climate crises, the children of veterans relying on caregivers, and those without permanent housing. The series offers a rare perspective, and takes an appropriately straightforward and honest approach without feeling the need to manipulate our emotions. It’s a miniseries at the moment, although there might be more coming.
The well-done docuseries pulls in some star power to tell stories around some of the most significant events in LGBTQ+ history during the 20th century. The combination of talking head-style discussions alongside scripted reenactments is particularly effective.
I’m increasingly drawn to stories of people who made it later in life, probably unrelated to being solidly middle-aged while having accomplished (as yet) nothing of note. Sarah Lancashire plays Julia Child magnificently, capturing much of her distinctive style and patter, and the show has a lot of fun with the production woes of early public television. Even though it has a light touch, the show’s also an important reminder of the importance of a woman like Julia, a woman in her 50s who become an unlikely trailblazer as not just an on-camera personality, but also as an innovative producer. Another one that deserved more than two seasons, but still delightful.
Not a stand-up special (although it does interweave with the development of one), but instead, another in Max’s impressive and (fairly) diverse docuseries offerings. What might otherwise be a vanity project (a doc about comedian Amy Schumer’s complicated pregnancy) is buoyed by a real sense of honesty, and by discussion of her husband Chris’s autism diagnosis around the same time. It probably requires a bit of an appreciation for Schumer going in, but it’s a fairly fascinating journey.
There’s an almost relentless “edginess” to an awful lot of the movies and shows based on DC superheroes, feeling at times as though they’re apologizing for the source material. Titans is right there, but with swearing, fucking, and some fairly intense violence. What it has, though, that some of the movies lack, is an addictive quality that mimics the feel of getting really into a good long-form superhero comic book storyline—but more swearsy.
This is the little cartoon that could: canceled way back in 2013, picked up by the defunct DC Universe streamer for season 3, and then getting a final season as a Max original (those first three seasons are also on Max). There’s a reason it has hung in there, even without the name recognition of some of DC’s other stuff: It’s an impressively animated series that draws from any number of comics sources while scrupulously developing its characters. Unlike a lot of cartoons (or comics), it’s also allowed its characters to grow up over the years and introduced new generations of heroes along the way.
It’s not always an easy watch (the ending episode, not surprisingly, is downright harrowing), but it’s not a terrible time to revisit the story of the Heaven’s Gate UFO-worshipping cult and its leader, Marshall Applewhite. The group had come to believe strongly in ideas that are fundamentally goofy, with deeply tragic consequences. Which is all sounding a little familiar lately. The doc makes use of never-before-released footage.
The miniseries, based on the Emily St. John Mandel novel, was released at either the best time or the worst possible time, the story of a flu pandemic landed on the former HBO Max right in the middle of the first phase of COVID. The show follows Kirsten Raymonde, a young stage actor whose performance in a production of King Lear is cut short by the onset of a virus with a 99% fatality rate. We meet Kirsten at the outset of the pandemic, and then visit her 20 years on, still an actor, in a world very much changed. It’s a slow burn, but ultimately, the series makes a moving case for the power of art, even (or especially) in moments when survival is on the line.
Kaley Cuoco voices Harley in this very adult cartoon series starring the anti-hero who made her debut in Bruce Timm and Paul Dini’s Batman: The Animated Series way back in the day. Don’t expect traditional superheroics—it’s very much a zany comedy, but it’s often funny and delivers some solid queer representation.
Going beyond the standard true crime tropes, The Staircase stars Colin Firth as Michael Peterson, the real-life novelist convicted of murder after his wife, Kathleen, was found dead at the bottom of the title’s staircase. Uniquely, the miniseries deals not primarily with the events surrounding the death, but instead the aftermath, and the filming of a French documentary during Peterson’s legal battle. The result is a smart look at the media’s impact on crime and punishment in our true-crime obsessed world.
The story of 1970s housewife Candy Montgomery has been told several times before, most memorably via a 1990 TV movie and a Hulu series from just last year. Here, Elizabeth Olsen gives a stellar performance as the woman who kills her lover’s wife, maybe in self-defense? It hits plenty of the expected true crime notes, but Olsen’s performance is top-tier, humanizing the lead character.
This very dark comedy became an HBO Max/Max original following its cancellation by TBS—but it still counts, kicking off with a Veronica Mars vibe involving Alia Shawkat’s Dory and her hunt for a missing college friend. The largely narcissistic characters are hunting for meaning and attention as much as for the missing friend, while the show grows weirder, funnier, and more interesting with each season, becoming a convincing chronicle of the absurdities of modern millennial existence.
I think everyone probably knows about this one already—at least those of you who are extremely online—but the swashbuckling pirate comedy isn’t only wonderfully goofy and funny, it also features, unexpectedly, one of the most believable and compelling gay romances of the last several years, so I just wanted to give it a little extra love. Max cut it short after a mere two seasons which, boo! But that doesn't mean it's not worth diving in.
