Check out two dozen TV shows, podcasts, films, and music albums recommended by Tufts University faculty and staff
Images from Life of Chuck, Heavyweight, and more films, shows, and podcasts recommended by Tufts faculty and staff. Photo illustration: Momo Shinzawa
Looking beyond your friends' and family’s favorites for your next watch or listen? These two dozen film, TV, music, and podcast recommendations by Tufts faculty and staff reflect a wide range of personal tastes—and expertise—that promises to elevate and diversify your personal watchlist or playlist.
A historian suggests traveling back to the 1880s in Death by Lightning, while a playwright pitches “wackadoo mystery-comedy-ensemble piece” How to Get to Heaven From Belfast.
A sociologist recommends Pi, which pits an obsessive mathematician against corporate and religious interests, and a chaplaincy associate director praises The Testament of Ann Lee, portraying the woman who brought the Shaker movement to the United States.
Meanwhile, a media researcher who directs the Center for Interdisciplinary Studies points you toward the Netherlands Bach Society, which is recording and offering every work by Johann Sebastian Bach free to the world.
MOVIES
After Life (1998, Criterion). The premise is simple in this understated and gently moving Japanese film: 22 people arrive at the first stage of their afterlife, to a rather dilapidated set of buildings, poorly heated, where they are asked to recount the favorite memory from their life.
That memory will be staged and filmed and become the only memory they carry with them going forward. The workers helping them, it turns out, couldn’t meet the three-day deadline to decide on a memory, back when it was their turn; they carry their own memories much further into the afterlife than most. With an almost documentary feel (half the people cast were non-actors), we hear from the arrivals as they ponder what might make their happiest memory. For some, this reckoning is a painful moment; they are forced to wonder what their life added up to. There are also complications among the workers—newer arrival 18-year-old Shiori (Erika Oda) has feelings for 22-year-old Takashi (Arata), but Takashi died at the end of World War II and has been unable to free himself to move on all these years. As viewers, we don’t care about how this afterlife works; we simply accept all these people and their stories. This moving and thoughtful film, by director Hirokazu Kore-eda, quickly makes you think: what one memory would I want to carry forward for all time? —Taylor McNeil, senior news and audience engagement editor, University Communications and Marketing
Crime 101 (2024, R). I’m a firm believer in the movie reviews of John Powers from “Fresh Air”; what he recommends, I will go see—he’s that reliable a match for my tastes. So, when Powers recently sang the praises of the new heist film Crime 101, I knew I had to go see it. This strong, old-school, character-driven crime flick pits a highly successful jewel thief (Chris Hemsworth) against a rumpled true believer of a detective (Mark Ruffalo), and then delightfully complicates the story by adding welcome complexity to both the thief and his pursuer. Most famous, perhaps, for his work in Marvel Cinematic Universe, here, Hemsworth is an anti-Thor: restrained, watchful, calculating, clever. Ruffalo, who has long since mastered the everyman character, is driven, annoying his colleagues to no end as he obsesses about this elusive jewel thief. Adding much spice to the good-guy/bad-guy recipe is Barry Keoghan. Making his wacky performance in last year’s Saltburn look like a mild-mannered schoolboy by comparison, Keoghan brings a wildness to this film. In every scene he’s in, he’s throwing Molotov cocktails around in a warehouse of gunpowder. I also really appreciated Halle Berry as a world-weary insurance broker. The movie is stylish and beautifully shot. I was still thinking about it several days after leaving the theater, which is always a very good sign. It’s an artfully crafted film for grownups, and a very diverting way to spend two hours. —Dave Nuscher, executive director of content and planning, University Communications and Marketing
Kneecap (2024, R). Set in present-day Northern Ireland, Kneecap is a semi-fictionalized biopic about the rise of an Irish-language rap trio amid ongoing cultural and political tensions. At the center of the film is the Irish language, presented as something lived and contested in very different ways. There’s a father tied to an older, more militant strain of anti-British resistance; a teacher trying to pass it on to kids in a classroom; an academic framing the cultural stakes; and Kneecap (playing themselves), turning Irish into something loud, current, and impossible to ignore. Set against that are the forces trying to control or suppress it, whether through intimidation, policing, or a more insidious cultural pressure. The band’s choice of hip-hop—an American art form rooted in resistance and cultural preservation—feels especially intentional as a vehicle to reclaim and reanimate the language. The film nods to that lineage directly, but it also just lets the music speak. And it works. The soundtrack is excellent, and the performances have a raw, unfiltered quality that suits the story. It’s also a lot of fun to watch. The filmmaking has a playful, inventive edge, with text layered into the frame and a lightness that keeps it from feeling overly didactic even as it engages with heavier themes. Combining the irreverence of Trainspotting, the self-awareness of This Is Spinal Tap, and the scrappy camaraderie of Sing Street, Kneecap is not only a great band origin story, but a sharp, often funny meditation on language as a site of resistance. —Ronee Saroff, editorial director, University Communications & Marketing
The Last Showgirl (2024, R), directed by Gia Coppola, is a kind of female-gaze response to Anora (Anora is great, but the male gaze is brutal). It highlights a dancer's love of movement, glitz, and performance in a dying genre. That genre, the Las Vegas revue, represents an older version of the male gaze and Coppola allows us to see the ways it afforded intimacy among women, especially those aging amid a transition from one way of seeing female bodies to another, harsher one. —Sarah Pinto, professor and chair, Department of Anthropology, School of Arts and Sciences
I didn’t expect much when I first clicked on The Life of Chuck (R), the 2024 film based on a Stephen King novella. I was on a plane, restless, and not quite satisfied with just reading on my Kindle. Scanning the seatback screen, I picked a movie whose runtime matched the remaining flight time. (This counts for deep analysis at 35,000 feet.) For the first twenty minutes, I split my attention between the unfolding catastrophe on the screen and the not-particularly gripping e-book I was reading on the history of the pocket calculator. Gradually, though, The Life of Chuck—and Chuck himself—pulled me in, and it still hasn’t let me go. The film tells the story of Charles “Chuck” Krantz in reverse, beginning with a billboard thanking him for “39 great years,” then drifting backward through an impromptu dance during a work trip, and finally to his childhood in his grandparents’ home. To say more would be to say too much. For days afterward, I couldn’t shake it. Chuck kept slipping into my dreams and my idle thoughts. When I rewatched the film, I realized how many small but essential details I’d missed while distractedly watching the opening act. This is not a movie that tolerates a second screen. The Life of Chuck is beautifully constructed and strangely hard to categorize. Some reviewers call it depressing. They’re right. Others insist it’s uplifting. They’re also right. The film contains multitudes. —Mike Rodman, vice president, University Communications and Marketing
A Magnificent Life (2025, PG-13). Partly because I snuck into the theater 10 minutes late without looking up the film (“The Fantastic Life?” I guessed at the ticket window), I thought I was in for a fictional dream journey in which an aging playwright faces his mortality, rediscovers his lost self, and triumphs over writer’s block. It turns out I got the vibe right—featuring elegant, old-school animation and a simple piano score, the movie follows Marcel the playwright’s struggle to write a memoir (aging is like a chimpanzee swinging from branch, chasing his lost memories, as his grandfather says). Then Marcel’s child self appears in a midnight visit. Touching the old playwright’s wrinkled face in wonder, the boy whisks him into his lost memories, whizzing him from Marseilles to Paris to LA, from pubescence to adulthood, from the disruption of moving pictures to the rise of talking pictures. There’s plenty of magic realism—the boy chats with the ghost of Marcel’s mother; after a review comparing him to an aardvark, Marcel turns into one. But it was the realism of the non-magical variety that made me start to suspect I was not watching fiction: A critic mocks the Marseilles accent, a moment that rings with real pain; a lamb adopted on set grows into an oversized sheep that gorges itself on plaster and is grieved with a funeral. As I walked out of the theater, Google revealed the playwright was in fact the famous Marcel Pagnol (Marseilles trilogy, Manon of the Spring). In the end, it’s the small specifics that no writer (or AI) could have made up, that accumulate to reveal a real human life deeply lived—one that helped shape the world of film we know today, and that can guide stuck writers and conflicted creatives as they navigate their own moments of rapid cultural and global change. —Monica Jimenez, senior culture & trends editor, University Communications and Marketing
Nouvelle Vague (2025, R). New Wave Cinema was an inevitable part of my education as a French and Comparative Literature major in college. And sure enough, I got the chance to experience it for the first time during my junior year abroad in Paris. Sitting in a lecture hall at an institution founded in 1257, surrounded by native speakers and analyzing films directed by the founders of a mid-century French cinema movement was thrilling, albeit intimidating. So, when I recently caught wind of American director Richard Linklater’s ambitious 2025 film Nouvelle Vague (New Wave) about the making of Jean-Luc Godard’s 1960 iconic classic Breathless (Au Bout de Souffle), I knew I’d be watching. And I was not disappointed: filmed in black and white, it felt like a Godard film unto itself. The composition of the shots and meticulous detail of the period costumes and sets were so reminiscent of the images from his work—extensive research clearly went into this charming creation. Not to mention the casting—Guillaume Marbeck as Jean-Luc Godard, Zoey Deutch as Jean Seberg, and Aubry Dullin as Jean-Paul Belmondo were head-turning doppelgangers. My only complaint is there was just one brief appearance from Agnès Varda, another director whose 1962 film Cléo de 5 à 7 is also considered a New Wave classic (fun fact: Godard has a brief cameo in it). —Julia Keith, senior program administrator for communications and engagement, International Center
Pamela, A Love Story (2023, TV-MA, Netflix) offers a different version of the voracious demand for women's bodies, and lessons for surviving it. A documentary filmed before the making of The Last Showgirl, it centers Anderson as a poet, performer, and a woman who loves love, highlighting Anderson's intelligence, wit, and choices while suggesting, too, that self-deception may be a tool of survival. Watched together (and if you become as obsessed as I did, alongside the audiobook, read by Anderson herself), these films make one thing poignantly clear—female friendship is necessary for that survival. In The Last Showgirl, that is on screen. In Pamela, A Love Story, it's on us. —Sarah Pinto, professor and chair, Department of Anthropology, School of Arts and Sciences
Pi (R). This 1988 film was Darren Aronofsky’s directoral and writing debut and I believe he won the Sundance award for it. It’s a psychological thriller about a reclusive (and possibly psychotic) mathematician who is searching for a unifying predictive formula. His work puts him on the radar of both a Wall Street firm and a Hasidic sect who believe his formula can predict the stock market and reveal a secret code within the Torah, respectively. Despite the fact that the film’s budget was so low that the crew had to come up with some creative (and sometimes illegal) methods to finish it, it is a masterclass in building mood and tension through cinematography and sound. As the plot unfolds the viewer is thrust into a frenzied, terrifying, and psychotic world contrasted with the order of mathematical precision and predictability. It’s perfect for those who like weird, creepy, and beautiful art. Fun fact about me—the film was the inspiration for one of my tattoos. —Brett Nava-Coulter, lecturer, Department of Sociology, School of Arts and Sciences
Rainbow (TV-MA, Netflix) is a Spanish language movie released in 2022. The film is an avant-garde reimagining of The Wizard of Oz directed by Paco Leon. In this adaptation there is no apparent Wizard character (but there is a little dog Toto and an amount of magical realism). The tornado does not carry Dorothy away but instead, on her 16th birthday, she embarks on the journey to find her mother who had given her up for adoption. The search for the missing mother starts at the fashion agency where the mother used to work, and leads to the plot complications revealing Dora’s relation to the owners of this company. The good prevails in the end, and although the mother is not found, Dora’s connection with her father strengthens. The film features a lot of contemporary culture, music, fashion, and dance, and is a bit trippy. I loved the mix of absurd evil and real kindness, and how very vibrant and a lot of fun the film is, retelling the story in a new way. —Zoya Davis-Hamilton, CRA associate vice provost, Research Administration Office of the Vice Provost for Research
The Testament of Ann Lee (2025, R) is not for the faint of heart, but it does justice to the true story of the incredible 18thcentury religious leader Mother Ann Lee, played by Amanda Seyfried. Mother Ann brought the Shaker movement to the United States; at the time, Shakers were a charismatic sect of the persecuted Quakers, whose egalitarian beliefs made them consistent targets in England and the American colonies. Shakers were even more peculiar because of their charismatic worship or “shaking” including group dancing and singing (both of which the film demonstrates beautifully). After a period of intense grief as a young woman, Mother Ann received a vision that she was female incarnation of Christ and that a truly faithful life should be lived both communally and celibately. She gathered followers in America, creating what became one of the most successful religious experiments in our country’s history—and she did it by uplifting religious freedom, ensuring all Shakers had equal rights, food, shelter and healthcare, and creating industrious self-sustaining villages (many of which are still standing today!). This biopic honestly depicts grief, infant loss, violent mobs, and spiritual longing; it is hard to watch sometimes—but not because it is exaggerated, because fate and scared crowds can be equally cruel. But it is also genuinely moving, telling a story we need right now: that bad events don’t have to turn you bad, that relentlessly living by your values can change history. It is an artful and quietly inspirational film that I hope finds you when you need it. —Nora Bond, associate director for programs, University Chaplaincy
MUSIC
Happiness (2003). My entrée into the world of the Weepies was a gifted mixtape of solo songs by Deb Talan, half of the folk-pop duo. Seated on the floor of my freshman dorm, I was instantly hooked. Her voice is so pure and her songs so sweet, even when they’re sad.
Her music resonates with me now as much as it did then, twentysomething years later. Her “Comfort” remains part of my nightly lullaby repertoire for both of my kids. The Weepies were formed when Deb teamed up with Steve Tannen, whom she met at one of his shows at Club Passim in Cambridge, and their first release together is Happiness. Every song on the album will feel like a favorite, be it "Happiness”, “Simple Life”, or “Jolene” (no relation to Dolly)—all capturing moments as charming as they are poignant. I dare you to listen to “Somebody Loved” and not feel wistful. Luckily, you don’t have to stop there. The Weepies made four other equally enchanting albums before splitting up, and every so often, they were featured in a movie or TV soundtrack in the early 2000s to 2010s. You might even recognize them from 2008 Obama campaign ads featuring “Can’t Go Back Now”. You can also enjoy their solo albums; while admittedly I don’t follow Steve as closely anymore, I anxiously await Deb’s latest. Last month, she released “Grey World (Til Morning)”, a single from her upcoming album. Happy listening! —Emma Galin-Attleson, associate director, Leadership Program for Financial Inclusion, The Fletcher School
Kiss All The Time. Disco, Occasionally (2026). As a longtime Harry Styles fan, I’m bound to listen to whatever music the former One Direction member puts out. But I was especially pleased that his latest album is something I’d play over and over again, no matter who was behind it. Kiss All The Time. Disco, Occasionally is an album filled with songs you can’t help but dance to. The album tackles introspective themes set to pumping instrumentals and choral backing vocals, from “American Girls,” a song about Styles’ friends going off and getting married, to “Season 2 Weight Loss,” which chronicles wondering if people will still love you if you change. To get the full experience of what makes Styles such a compelling performer, you can watch him perform his full album to more than 20,000 fans in Harry Styles: One Night in Manchester on Netflix. It captures the magic of seeing Styles live and why his songs are built for screaming crowds and high-energy performances. Getting tickets to his upcoming residency performances might be next to impossible, but you can still tune into the phenomenon right at home. —Haley Lerner, content creator / editor, University Communications and Marketing
Last year, my sister recommended I listen to Boys Go To Jupiter's album Meet Me After Practice (2025). While a touch skeptical (her initial description was "Barry Manilow meets modern pop"), after my first playthrough, I became a quick fan. The New York-based band's sound is a mashup of pop, jazz, and rock, with a retro flair and a distinct musical theater influence. And the band counts Tufts alum, pianist and singer, Caleb Martin-Rosenthal, A21, among its main trio of musicians. One of the many standouts on the album, "Virginia," tells the tale of a woman who dreams of more than her mundane life, but finds herself caught up in the "wrong crowd." And yes, it has echoes of Barry Manilow's "Mandy." The band's songs about love span both tone and genre. The melancholic ballad "Lovers Always Lose" is a stark contrast to the foot-stomping pop rock song "Tiltawhirl." And while Meet Me After Practice is stellar on headphones, you can't miss the band performing live. I've been lucky enough to see Boys Go To Jupiter three times over the past year at increasingly larger venues, most recently at a sold-out show at The Sinclair in Harvard Square. At their 2025 performance at Central Square's Sonia, a mysterious suitcase on the front of the stage led to a surprise rendition of "Tomorrow" from the musical Annie, red curly wigs included. And nothing beats screaming along to "wish u were here" with lead singer, Jess Kantorowitz. While I can't wait to see their popularity grow, I know in the not-too-distant future, I'll miss the day when Boys Go To Jupiter's musical genius was still a secret. So go listen to "Meet Me After Practice" before anyone can say you were jumping on the bandwagon. —Kathleen McGreal, senior research analyst, Office of Institutional Research, Office of the Provost and Senior Vice President
Netherlands Bach Society. It’s an incredibly ambitious project. The Netherlands Bach Society, one of the world’s premiere chamber music groups, decided to celebrate its 100th anniversary in 2021 by starting to record every single work by Johann Sebastian Bach, put it on YouTube, and make it freely accessible to the world. As of last year, they’d succeeded in recording almost half of the estimated 1080 known works of JS Bach. Their YouTube channel has over half a million subscribers and counting. I have listened to only a portion of what this ensemble has made available. Every single piece is stunning. The performers, who often play on period instruments, are outstanding, and their interpretations are quite wonderful. Familiar pieces like the Brandenburg concerti are fresh, lesser-known works shine through stellar performances, and workhorses like the B minor mass are astoundingly and beautifully crafted. The Netherlands Bach Society also posts informative videos about the instruments they use, about the creative decisions conductors and instrumentalists make, and about the challenges musicians face (like staying on pitch with really old and persnickety instruments). Although they most often perform Bach (and honestly, trying to record ALL of Bach undoubtedly keeps them very busy!), the ensemble does sometimes perform other music. I’m especially looking forward to Girls & Princes, a program they’ll debut in 2027 with music that “sounds like Bach” helping to tell some classic fairy tales in contemporary ways. What a gift to the world their music is, as well as their generosity in sharing it with us so widely! —Julie Dobrow, director, Center for Interdisciplinary Studies, teaching professor, Eliot-Pearson Department of Child Study and Human Development
Straight Line Was a Lie. New Zealand-based band The Beths only came onto my radar in the past few years but ever since hearing Metal (their single from last year’s album Straight Line Was a Lie) on the radio, I’ve been happily hooked. Their kiwi grunge pop rock sound is infectious and energizing, especially live—I caught them at the Royale in Boston this past December. Band members Elizabeth Stokes (guitar, vocals), Jonathan Pearce (guitar), Benjamin Sinclair (bass), and Tristan Deck (drums) have a very relaxed and low-key, yet playful bond with each other onstage—when it comes time to introduce the members, they popcorn to one another with a quirky anecdote about each person, which feels refreshingly egalitarian. The whole album is enjoyable but some of my favorite tunes are No Joy (which also has a very cute, DIY-style video), Best Laid Plans, Roundabout, and the title track. If you like what you hear, I’d also recommend their 2022 album Expert in a Dying Field. —Julia Keith, senior program administrator for communications and engagement, International Center
PODCASTS
Heavyweight. If you are a big fan of This American Life by Ira Glass, you might already be familiar with Jonathan Goldstein, who appears on the show many times. Jonathan Goldstein also has his own podcast called Heavyweight. I started listening to Heavyweight many years ago, and it became my go-to podcast for long running days. His stories are always unique and interesting. Many episodes revisit the past and try to find out what happened to a person, a place, or sometimes even an object. Listening to this podcast reminds me of looking through an old family photo album. From one photograph, different family members often tell completely different stories. Each episode of Heavyweight feels like opening that old album and discovering what happened to the person in the photograph and where they are now. Jonathan Goldstein’s storytelling style is amazing, and sometimes the stories can be very emotional. There were times when I was driving to the grocery store and had to pull over to the side of the road because the story made me cry. In one of the recent episodes, he interviews his wife about her experience living in Minneapolis during a time of rising anti-immigration tension. That episode was one of the most powerful stories I have heard from his podcast. If you have a long commute, or if you enjoy listening to stories about other people’s lives, I highly recommend Heavyweight. The stories are always interesting, and you will find yourself emotionally engaged even after the episode ends. —Momo Shinzawa, senior digital media production specialist, University Communications and Marketing
A literary magazine founded in 1979 might not seem the likeliest source for a podcast worth a listen in 2026. But for the better part of two years, the London Review of Books (LRB) Podcast has held onto its spot on my very tightly curated list of the 15 podcasts to which I subscribe. (I like the tidiness of subscribing to only many podcasts as will fit on a single screen in Pocket Casts app... plus, there are only so many listening hours in a week.) The LRB Podcast was originally pitched to me by a friend who values deep research over opinion; she said it was a pod for people for whom listening isn’t background noise while you’re cooking, say, but a kind of reading by other means. The tone is serious and intellectual but surprisingly accessible. I don’t listen to every ep, but in recent weeks it has given me the chance to go deep on subjects as varied as William F. Buckley, the Mitford sisters, Formula One, Judy Garland, and the manosphere. It satisfies my curiosity across a wide range of topics without subjecting me to the empty banter that marks so many “culture” podcasts. If you want to listen in as a smart host (Thomas Jones is superb) gently accompanies a deeply informed writer or critic through a real conversation—spanning politics, literature, and pop culture—the LRB Podcast might just be for you. —Dave Nuscher, executive director of content and planning, University Communications and Marketing
Where Should We Begin? Even if you didn’t read the Belgian psychotherapist Esther Perel’s dissection of relationship stagnation in Mating in Captivity 20 years ago, or join the debate sparked by her 2017 The State of Affairs about whether cheating is an evolutionary adaption, you’ve probably seen her New York Times piece on people in romantic relationships with AI, or heard her conversations with Trevor Noah, Tony Robbins, Miranda July, or Orna Guralnik. Still, I must plug Perel’s podcast Where Should We Begin? in which she counsels couples navigating everything from trauma and secret children to green card deceptions and wartime separation. The most memorable episodes, however, often center on more mundane questions like how to rekindle the spark, merge families, share the same workplace, or decide whether to stay or go. Perel’s clients come with great vulnerability and insight about where they’re stuck; some have clearly done much work and research before arriving, and express themselves with clear-eyed eloquence. But it’s Perel’s rich voice, open mind, and open heart that anchor and elevate these conversations, along with her curiosity and honesty, her wise analysis, and her challenge to couples and individuals to step out of their comfort zones. Her questions—whether to her clients, or aside to herself and the listener as she reflects on her own bias and perceived missteps—are surgically precise, progressively opening new doors and uncovering deeper layers of pain and belief. Her chiropractor-like ability to isolate a psychological misalignment and offer just the right adjustment has triggered catharsis and epiphanies that ripple out across the radio waves. —Monica Jimenez, senior culture & trends editor, University Communications and Marketing
TV
Death By Lightning (2025, R, Netflix). If history is the struggle of memory against forgetting Netflix’s brilliant miniseries based on the book Destiny of the Republic by Candice Millard puts in the effort to revive two figures who are mostly forgotten.
It follows the collision course that led the troubled failure Charles Guiteau (a wonderful Matthew Macfadyen) to assassinate the newly elected President James A. Garfield (a superb Michael Shannon) in 1881. Along the way it reawakens the groggy memory of the U.S. in the 1880s, reviving the politics and culture of a country still trying to right itself after the crucible of the Civil War. The series engagingly recreates the feel of the period. While not a perfect recovery of an era, an excellent supporting cast make the characters feel real. Long forgotten political battles and personalities have life breathed into them again—Shea Whigham makes the corrupt New York Senator Roscoe Conkling into a wily, charming powerbroker. Staging the energy and drama of a 19th century political convention in a way that compels a modern audience is itself an achievement of the series. Weighty questions of politics, corruption, and violence deepen the whole story but it’s simply a great watch. —David Ekbladh, professor, Department of History, School of Arts and Sciences
The Great British Bake Off (Netflix). Life is heavy these days, so I've spent some time revisiting my favorite bakers in the Great British Bake Off tent to lighten things up. If you're unfamiliar with the concept, in each of the show's 16 seasons, a dozen amateur home bakers compete against each other in an event tent in three timed rounds each week: a signature bake, technical bake, and showstopper—and at the end of the episode, one person is crowned the week's star baker, and one goes home. In the signature, bakers are given advance notice and prepare something they've practiced at home that fits the week's theme—say, for pastry week, creating a savory picnic pie with short-crust pastry. The technical is a surprise challenge each week, issued by one of the show's judges (most recently Paul Hollywood and Prue Leith), with a very vague—if any at all—recipe. For bread week last year, the bakers had to make a dozen glazed donuts in two hours, then have the donuts judged blindly and ranked in order from worst to best. The signature and technical are both produced in one day, followed by the showstoppers, like fabulously flaky towering millefoglie trios and delicious bread shaped like lion's heads, the next. After the showstoppers are evaluated, the judges deliberate alongside the show's hosts, with one of the two hosts announcing the week's top baker, and the other having to let the worst baker go. It's formulaic, and emotional, and reminds me that there are things I hope to do someday—like taste a Scottish raspberry, declared by contestant Kevin Flynn to be the best in the world. Will I be attempting to make a croquembouche any time soon? Probably not, but do I enjoy watching bakers stack a tower of perfectly puffed choux pastry together in the shape of a cone? Yes. Do I also enjoy seeing the sheer joy on contestants' faces when they're recognized for their stellar bakes? Also, yes. If you need a lift, the early seasons are on the Roku Channel for free, and other seasons are available on Netflix, including special holiday episodes that bring previous contestants back and welcome celebrities into the fold. Now, if you please, I'll be queuing up an episode. On your marks, get set, bake! —Emily Wright Brognano, senior content creator / editor, University Communications and Marketing
High Potential (ABC, Hulu, TV-14). The setup for High Potential could feel gimmicky. It’s a crime thriller with a strong comedic streak, built around Morgan, a single mom whose genius IQ lands her consulting work with the police. But the show keeps itself grounded by focusing on relationships as much as the mysteries, resulting in a clever blend of crime-solving, workplace comedy, and character-driven storytelling that’s entertaining and surprisingly warm. One of the show’s biggest strengths is its female-led ensemble. Morgan (played by actress Kaitlin Olson from “It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia”) is sharp, funny, and unapologetically herself, as you’ll see with her outrageous fashion choices. The series surrounds her with other women—a detective, Daphne, and a lieutenant, Selena—who support each other and bring depth to the procedural format. The show also does a nice job balancing structure. Each episode wraps up a case, so you get that sense of closure, but there are longer storylines running underneath that slowly build, keeping viewers invested beyond the weekly whodunit. It’s the kind of series that works just as well for casual viewing as it does for a binge. If you like crime shows that don’t take themselves too seriously—but still want refreshing characters and storylines—High Potential is worth your time. —Angela Nelson, senior deputy editorial director for the health/science schools, University Communications and Marketing
How to Get to Heaven from Belfast (TV-MA, Netflix). In tough times—and I think we can agree the world has been on fire for pretty much all of 2026—a little escapism can be good for the soul. How to Get to Heaven from Belfast offers a respite from the real world, assuming you don’t mind a little murder in your healing remedies. Created by Derry Girls showrunner Lisa McGee, this wackadoo mystery-comedy-ensemble-piece follows three high school friends when they reconnect in their late 30s to mourn the death of the fourth member of their old squad. With Derry Girl accents, Bad Sisters twists and turns, and the decidedly unserious approach of Palm Royale, the Netflix show is aesthetically madcap—as if McGee never met a tone or device she didn’t like. Come to solve the mystery, stay for the gags, and marvel at how much fun everyone is having. —David Valdes, lecturer, Department of English, School of Arts and Sciences
The Lowdown (R, Hulu). While shows like The Pitt and Heated Rivalry are getting much deserved attention these days, one show equally deserving show seems to have slipped under the radar. Sterlin Harjo follow up to the brilliant Reservation Dogs is worth similar consideration as well. And while that 3-season comedy/drama came up criminally empty handed at the Emmy Awards, it would be a crime against humanity if his follow up vehicle The Lowdown met the same fate this fall. Occupying the same Tulsa universe as Dogs, Harjo turns his attention to life off the reservation focusing on a self-described “truthstorian” named Lee Raybon, beautifully and hilariously played by Ethan Hawke. A small-town paper scribe and bookstore owner on the outskirts of Tulsa. He is a “can’t let anything go” investigative journalist who locks into the story of a death within one of Tulsa most powerful political families. Dragging his daughter along for the ride, he slowly unravels the many deep dark secrets the Washburn clan has kept hidden and fights to keep that way. Part neo-noir, part comedy, Hawke, the always brilliant Keith David, and Tim Blake Shelton (as the dead Washburn, who nevertheless, comes back throughout the season to share bits of Midwest folk wisdom and clues) keep Rayburn moving forward, if not always on track. Emmy Award time (and a second season, already announced) should shine a light on this underdog of a series (on Hulu and AMC, hence the low visibility) and put this show back in the limelight it so deserves. —Timothy Wood, talent acquisition team lead, Human Resources
Playing Gracie Darling (TV-MA, Netflix). The complete opposite of Great British Bake Off, Playing Gracie Darling is part psychological thriller, part familial drama, and it was so good I could have devoured its six episodes in one sitting. The Australian series centers on Joni Grey, a child psychologist in her early 40s and mother of two, who is called back to her hometown after a teenage girl goes missing. Frankie Darling's disappearance is eerily similar to that of a girl who would have been her aunt, if she hadn't gone missing in 1997 after a creepy seance in a shack in the bush. In her small town, Joni works to unravel what happened to her childhood best friend, Gracie; whether the evil spirit Joni, Gracie, and their two friends contacted more than 20 years ago using a Ouija board could have had something to do with Frankie's disappearance; and how all of this tragedy within one family could have had an impact that reaches far beyond their own dysfunctional home. —Emily Wright Brognano, senior content creator / editor, University Communications and Marketing
St. Denis Medical (TV-14, NBC, Netflix) is proof that sitcoms are alive and well. In a style reminiscent of The Office and Abbott Elementary, the series captures the fast paced, under‑resourced world of healthcare. Set within the day‑to‑day lives of doctors, nurses, and administrators at an underfunded Oregon hospital, the show highlights how strong personalities, budget constraints, and misunderstandings constantly get in the way. There are staff squabbles over NutRageous candy bars, a budding romance you can’t help but root for, and the chaos of outlandish patients balanced by surprisingly hard‑hitting moments in between. With two seasons airing since its 2024 debut, St. Denis Medical has kept me consistently connected and laughing with all the nurses in my own family ever since. I’m not sure if it’s the Oregon nuances that speak to me or simply that I’m always delighted to see Wendi McLendon‑Covey on screen, but I’ll watch her in just about anything! She plays Joyce Henderson, the hospital’s ambitious and often oblivious administrator, and brings just the right mix of confidence and comedic timing. One of the other main characters is Matt Pearson, played by Mekki Leeper. He’s a newly hired nurse whose clumsy, earnest learning style makes him endearing. Watching him navigate hospital life alongside the staff and patients creates many of the show’s best moments. Each character feels fully realized, contributing to the humor and heart of the show. —Meredith Hicks Ogburn, talent acquisition specialist, Human Resources
