Twelve Films and TV Shows You Need to Stream in April

Spend your couch time watching Andrew Scott step into Tom Ripley's shoes, a shattering docuseries about Nickelodeon's kids TV hits and Colin Farrell as a PI.
Sarah Ward
Published on April 30, 2024

Not all that long ago, the idea of getting cosy on your couch, clicking a few buttons, and having thousands of films and television shows at your fingertips seemed like something out of science fiction. Now, it's just an ordinary night — whether you're virtually gathering the gang to text along, cuddling up to your significant other or shutting the world out for some much needed me-time.

Of course, given the wealth of options to choose from, there's nothing ordinary about making a date with your chosen streaming platform. The question isn't "should I watch something?" — it's "what on earth should I choose?".

Hundreds of titles are added to Australia's online viewing services each and every month, all vying for a spot on your must-see list. And, so you don't spend 45 minutes scrolling and then being too tired to actually commit to anything, we're here to help. We've spent plenty of couch time watching our way through this month's latest batch — and, from the latest and greatest through to old and recent favourites, here are our picks for your streaming queue from April's haul.


Brand-New Stuff You Can Watch From Start to Finish Now


Boasting The Night Of's Steven Zaillian as its sole writer and director — joining a list of credits that includes penning Martin Scorsese's Gangs of New York and The Irishman, and also winning an Oscar for Schindler's List — the latest exquisite jump into the Ripley realm doesn't splash around black-and-white hues as a mere stylistic preference. In this new adaptation of Patricia Highsmith's 1955 book, the setting is still coastal Italy at its most picturesque, and therefore a place that most would want to revel in visually; Anthony Minghella, The Talented Mr Ripley's director a quarter-century back, did so with an intoxicating glow. For Zaillian, however, stripping away the warm rays and beaches and hair, blue seas and skies, and tanned skin as well, ensures that all that glitters is never gold or even just golden in tone as he spends time with Tom Ripley (Andrew Scott, All of Us Strangers). There's never even a glint of a hint of a travelogue aesthetic, with viewers confronted with the starkness of Tom's choices and actions — he is a conman and worse, after all — plus the shadows that he persists in lurking in and the impossibility of ever grasping everything that he desires in full colour.

On the page and on the screen both before and now, the overarching story remains the same, though, in this new definitive take on the character. It's the early 60s rather than the late 50s in Ripley, but Tom is in New York, running fake debt-collection schemes and clinging to the edges of high-society circles, when he's made a proposal that he was never going to refuse. Herbert Greenleaf (filmmaker Kenneth Lonergan, who has also acted in his own three features You Can Count on Me, Margaret and Manchester by the Sea) enlists him to sail to Europe to reunite with a friend, the shipping magnate's son Dickie (Johnny Flynn, One Life). As a paid gig, Tom is to convince the business heir to finally return home. But Dickie has no intention of giving up his Mediterranean leisure as he lackadaisically pursues painting — and more passionately spends his time with girlfriend Marge Sherwood (Dakota Fanning, The Equalizer 3) — to join the family business.

Ripley streams via Netflix. Read our full review.



A young woman sheltered in the most literal sense there is, living her entire life in one of the subterranean facilities where humanity endeavours to start anew. A TV and movie star famed for his roles in westerns, then entertaining kids, then still alive but irradiated 219 years after the nuclear destruction of Los Angeles. An aspiring soldier who has never known anything but a devastated world, clinging to hopes of progression through the military. All three walk into the wasteland in Fallout, the live-action adaptation of the gaming series that first arrived in 1997. All three cross paths in an attempt to do all that anyone can in a post-apocalyptic hellscape: survive. So goes this leap into a world that's had millions mashing buttons through not only the OG game, but also three released sequels — a fourth is on the way — plus seven spinoffs. Even with Westworld' Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy as executive producers, giving Fallout the flesh-and-blood treatment is a massive and ambitious task. But where 2023 had The Last of Us, 2024 now has this; both are big-name dystopian titles that earned legions of devotees through gaming, and both are excellent in gripping and immersive fashion at making the move to television.

Fallout's vision of one of the bleakest potential futures splits its focus between Lucy MacLean (Ella PurnellYellowjackets), who has no concept of how humanity can exist on the surface when the show kicks off; Cooper Howard aka bounty hunter The Ghoul (Walton Goggins, I'm a Virgo), the screen gunslinger who saw the bombs fall and now wields weapons IRL; and Maximus (Aaron Moten, Emancipation), a trainee for the Brotherhood of Steel, which is committed to restoring order by throwing around its might (and using robotic armour). The show's lead casting is gleaming, to the point that imagining anyone but this trio of actors as Lucy, Howard-slash-The Ghoul and Maximus is impossible. Where else has Walton's resume, with its jumps between law-and-order efforts, westerns traditional and neo, and comedy — see: The Shield, Justified, Sons of Anarchy, The Hateful Eight, Vice Principals and The Righteous Gemstones, as a mere few examples — been leading than here? (And, next, also season three of The White Lotus.)

Fallout streams via Prime Video. Read our full review, and our interview with Walton Goggins, Ella Purnell and Aaron Moten.


Heartbreak High

When Heartbreak High returned in 2022, the Sydney-set series benefited from a pivotal fact: years pass, trends come and go, but teen awkwardness and chaos is eternal. In its second season, Netflix's revival of the 1994–99 Australian favourite embraces the same idea. It's a new term at Hartley High, one that'll culminate in the Year 11 formal. Amerie (Ayesha Madon, Love Me) might be certain that she can change — doing so is her entire platform for running for school captain — but waiting for adulthood to start never stops being a whirlwind. Proving as easy to binge as its predecessor, Heartbreak High's eight new episodes reassemble the bulk of the gang that audiences were initially introduced to two years ago. Moving forward is everyone's planned path — en route to that dance, which gives the new batch of instalments its flashforward opening. The evening brings fire, literally. Among the regular crew, a few faces are missing in the aftermath. The show then rewinds to two months earlier, to old worries resurfacing, new faces making an appearance and, giving the season a whodunnit spin as well, to a mystery figure taunting and publicly shaming Amerie. The latter begins their reign of terror with a dead animal; Bird Psycho is soon the unknown culprit's nickname.

Leaders, creepers, slipping between the sheets: that's Heartbreak High's second streaming go-around in a nutshell. The battle to rule the school is a three-person race, pitting Amerie against Sasha (Gemma Chua-Tran, Mustangs FC) and Spider (Bryn Chapman Parish, Mr Inbetween) — one as progressive as Hartley, which already earns that label heartily, can get; the other season one's poster boy for jerkiness, toxicity and entitlement. Heightening the electoral showdown is a curriculum clash, with the SLT class introduced by Jojo Obah (Chika Ikogwe, The Tourist) last term as a mandatory response to the grade's behaviour questioned by Head of PE Timothy Voss (Angus Sampson, Bump). A new faculty member for the show, he's anti-everything that he deems a threat to traditional notions of masculinity. In Spider, Ant (Brodie Townsend, Significant Others) and others, he quickly has followers. Their name, even adorning t-shirts: CUMLORDS.

Heartbreak High streams via Netflix. Read our full review.


Such Brave Girls

If Such Brave Girls seems close to reality, that's because it is. In the A24 co-produced series — which joins the cult-favourite entertainment company's TV slate alongside other standouts such as Beef, Irma Vep, Mo and The Curse over the past two years — sisters Kat Sadler and Lizzie Davidson both star and take inspiration from their lives and personalities. Making their TV acting debuts together, the pair also play siblings. Josie (Sadler) and Billie (Davidson), their on-screen surrogates, are navigating life's lows not only when the show's six-part first season begins, but as it goes on. The entire setup was sparked by a phone conversation between the duo IRL, when one had attempted to take her life twice and the other was £20,000 in debt. For most, a sitcom wouldn't come next; however, laughing at and lampooning themselves, and seeing the absurdity as well, is part of Such Brave Girls' cathartic purpose for its driving forces. If you've ever thought "what else can you do?" when finding yourself inexplicably chuckling at your own misfortune, that's this series — this sharp, unsparing, candid, complex and darkly comedic series — from start to finish.

Creating the three-time BAFTA-nominated show, writing it and leading, Sadler plays Josie as a bundle of nerves and uncertainty. The character is in her twenties, struggling with her mental health and aspiring to be an artist, but is largely working her way through a never-ending gap year. Davidson's Billie is the eternally optimistic opposite — albeit really only about the fact that Nicky (Sam Buchanan, Back to Black), the guy that she's hooking up with, will eventually stop cheating on her, fall in love and whisk her away to Manchester to open a vodka bar bearing her name. Both girls live at home with their mother Deb (Louise Brealey, Lockwood & Co), who also sees a relationship as the solution to her problems, setting her sights on the iPad-addicted Dev (Paul Bazely, Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves) a decade after Josie and Billie's father went out for teabags and never came home. With actor-slash-director Simon Bird behind the lens — alongside first-timer Marco Alessi on one episode — if Such Brave Girls seems like it belongs in the same acerbically comedic realm as The Inbetweeners and Everyone Else Burns, there's a reason for that, too.

Such Brave Girls streams via Stan. Read our full review.


Baby Reindeer

A person walking into a bar. The words "sent from my iPhone". A comedian pouring their experiences into a one-performer play. A twisty true-crime tale making the leap to the screen. All four either feature in, inspired or describe Baby Reindeer. All four are inescapably familiar, too, but the same can't be said about this seven-part Netflix series. Written by and starring Scottish comedian Richard Gadd, and also based on his real-life experiences, this is a bleak, brave, revelatory, devastating and unforgettable psychological thriller. It does indeed begin with someone stepping inside a pub — and while Gadd plays a comedian on-screen as well, don't go waiting for a punchline. When Martha (Jessica Gunning, The Outlaws) enters The Heart in Camden, London in 2015, Donny Dunn (Gadd, Wedding Season) is behind the counter. "I felt sorry for her. That's the first feeling I felt," the latter explains via voiceover. Perched awkwardly on a stool at the bar, Martha is whimpering to herself. She says that she can't afford to buy a drink, even a cup of tea. Donny takes pity, offering her one for free — and her face instantly lights up. That's the fateful moment, one of sorrow met with kindness, that ignites Baby Reindeer's narrative and changes Donny's life.

After that warm beverage, The Heart instantly has a new regular. Sipping Diet Cokes from then on (still on the house), Martha is full of stories about all of the high-profile people that she knows and her high-flying lawyer job. But despite insisting that she's constantly busy, she's also always at the bar when Donny is at work, sticking around for his whole shifts. She chats incessantly about herself, folks that he doesn't know and while directing compliments Donny's way. He's in his twenties, she's in her early forties — and he can see that she's smitten, letting her flirt. He notices her laugh. He likes the attention, not to mention getting his ego stroked. While he doesn't reciprocate her feelings, he's friendly. She isn't just an infatuated fantasist, however; she's chillingly obsessed to an unstable degree. She finds his email address, then starts messaging him non-stop when she's not nattering at his workplace. (IRL, Gadd received more than 40,000 emails.)

Baby Reindeer streams via Netflix. Read our full review.


Quiet on Set: The Dark Side of Kids TV

One of the most difficult episodes of documentary television to watch in 2024 hails from five-part series Quiet on Set: The Dark Side of Kids TV. It's also essential to see. In its third chapter, this dive into the reality behind Nickelodeon's live-action children's TV success from the late-90s onwards gives the microphone to Drake Bell, who unravels his experiences while first working on The Amanda Show (led by Amanda Bynes, Easy A) and then on Drake & Josh (co-starring Josh Peck, Oppenheimer) — specifically his interactions with dialogue coach Brian Peck, who became immersed in Bell's life to a disturbing degree and was convicted in 2004 of sexually assaulting him. The case wasn't a major scandal at the time, incredulously. Even with Bell's name withheld because he was a minor, it was the second instance of a Nickelodeon staff member being arrested for such horrendous crimes in mere months, and yet widespread media coverage and public awareness didn't follow. Quiet on Set: The Dark Side of Kids TV marks the first time that Bell talks about it publicly. Witnessing him speak through the details is as harrowing as it is heartbreaking.

Originally releasing as four episodes, then adding a fifth hosted by journalist Soledad O'Brien to reflect upon the revelations covered, this docuseries has much that's distressing in its sights — much of it under television producer Dan Schneider. From sketch series All That onwards, he was a Nickelodeon bigwig; Kenan & Kel, Zoey 101, iCarly and Sam & Cat are also among the shows on his resume. Former child actors such as Giovonnie Samuels, Bryan Hearne, Alexa Nikolas, Katrina Johnson, Kyle Sullivan, Raquel Lee and Leon Frierson talk about the pressures on set, and the inappropriate jokes that they didn't realise were inappropriate jokes worked into their material. Ex-The Amanda Show writers Christy Stratton (Freeridge) and Jenny Kilgen step through the misogynistic environment among the creatives; that they were forced to split a salary between them but do the same amount of work as their male colleagues is only the beginning. Parents, including Bell's father Joe, share their unsurprisingly upset perspectives. Bynes' post-Nickelodeon fortunes also get the spotlight. Clips and behind-the-scenes footage are weaved in throughout, too, and looking at any of the network's shows from the era the same way again is impossible. 

Quiet on Set: The Dark Side of Kids TV streams via Binge.



What did it take to get one of the most important interviews with a member of the royal family that has ever aired on British television (and most important interviews in general)? That's Scoop's question — and not only do director Philip Martin (The Crown) and screenwriters Peter Moffat (61st Street) and Geoff Bussetil (The English Game) ask it while adapting Sam McAlister's 2022 book Scoops, but their compelling journalism thriller answers it in detail. The bulk of the feature is set in 2019, spending its time among the BBC staff at news and current affairs show Newsnight as they first try to lock in and then attempt to execute a chat with Prince Andrew. The end result, aka the program's 'Prince Andrew & the Epstein Scandal' episode, will go down in history; even if you didn't see it then or haven't since, everyone knows of that discussion and its ramifications. Getting it to the screen was the result of hard work, dedication and smarts on the parts of booker and producer McAllister, host Emily Maitlis and editor Esme Wren — and a tale that deserves to be just as well known. 

Billie Piper (I Hate Suzie) plays McAllister as whip-smart, fiercely determined and indefatigable when she's chasing a story, but undervalued at her job, so much so that her colleagues regularly accuse her of wasting time following up the wrong guests instead of simply complying with their requests. She's certain that a class clash isn't helping — and just as confident that she knows what she's doing, including when she begins corresponding with the Duke of York's (Rufus Sewell, Kaleidoscope) private secretary Amanda Thirsk (Keeley Hawes, Orphan Black: Echoes) about getting him on-camera to discuss his connection to Jeffrey Epstein. She needs backup from both Maitlis (Gillian Anderson, Sex Education) and Wren (Romola Garai, One Life), as well as the entire team's support, in bringing the chat to fruition. Just like the IRL interview itself, this polished how-it-happened procedural is riveting viewing as it slides into its genre alongside Spotlight and She Said.

Scoop streams via Netflix.


New and Returning Shows to Check Out Week by Week


Colin Farrell's recent hot streak continues. After a busy few years that've seen him earn Oscar and BAFTA nominations for The Banshees of Inisherin, collect a Gotham Awards nod for After Yang, steal scenes so heartily in The Batman that TV spinoff The Penguin is on the way and pick up the Satellite Awards' attention for The North Water, Sugar now joins his resume. The Irish actor's television credits are still few — and, until his True Detective stint in 2015, far between — but it's easy to see what appealed to him about leading this mystery series. From the moment that the Los Angeles-set noir effort begins — in Tokyo, in fact — it drips with intrigue. Farrell's John Sugar, the show's namesake, is a suave private detective who takes a big Hollywood case against his handler Ruby's (Kirby, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off) recommendation. He's soon plunged into shadowy City of Angels chaos, bringing The Big Sleep, Chinatown, LA Confidential and Under the Silver Lake to mind, and loving movie history beyond sharing the same genre as said flicks.

Softly spoken, always crispy dressed, understandably cynical and frequently behind the wheel of a blue vintage convertible, Sugar, the PI, is a film fan. The series bakes that love and its own links to cinema history into its very being through spliced-in clips and references elsewhere — and also foregrounds the idea that illusions, aka what Tinseltown so eagerly sells via its celluloid dreams, are inescapable in its narrative in the process. Twists come, not just including a brilliant move that reframes everything that comes before, but as Sugar endeavours to track down Olivia Siegel (Sydney Chandler, Don't Worry Darling). She's the granddaughter of worried legendary film producer Jonathan (James Cromwell, Succession); daughter of less-concerned (and less-renowned) fellow producer Bernie (Dennis Boutsikaris, Better Call Saul); half-sister of former child star David (Nate Corddry, Barry), who is on the comeback trail; and ex-step daughter of pioneering rocker Melanie (Amy Ryan, Beau Is Afraid). Trying to find her inspires heated opposition. Also sparked: an excellently cast series that splashes its affection of film noir and LA movies gone by across its frames, but is never afraid to be its own thing.

Sugar streams via Apple TV+Read our full review.


The Sympathizer

Fresh from winning an Oscar for getting antagonistic in times gone by as United States Atomic Energy Commission chair Lewis Strauss in Oppenheimer, Robert Downey Jr gets antagonistic in times gone by again in The Sympathizer — as a CIA handler, a university professor, a politician and a Francis Ford Coppola-esque filmmaker on an Apocalypse Now-style movie, for starters. In another addition to his post-Marvel resume that emphasises how great it is to see him stepping into the shoes of someone other than Tony Stark, he takes on multiple roles in this espionage-meets-Vietnam War drama, which adapts Viet Thanh Nguyen's 2016 Pulitzer Prize-winning book of the same name. But Downey Jr is never the show's lead, which instead goes to Australian Hoa Xuande (Last King of the Cross). The latter plays the Captain, who works for South Vietnamese secret police in Saigon before the city's fall, and is also a spy for the North Vietnamese communist forces. It's his memories, as typed out at a reeducation camp, that guide the seven-part miniseries' narrative — jumping back and forth in time, as recollections do, including to his escape to America.

As the Captain relays the details of his mission and attempts to work both sides, The Sympathizer isn't just flitting between flashbacks as a structural tactic. The act of remembering is as much a focus as the varied contents of the Captain's memories — to the point that rewinding to add more context to a scene that's just been shown, or noting that he didn't specifically witness something but feels as if he can fill in the gap, also forms the storytelling approach. Perspective and influence are high among the show's concerns, too, as the Captain navigates the sway of many colonial faces (making Downey Jr's multiple roles a powerful and revealing touch) both in Vietnam and in the US. Behind it all off-screen is a filmmaker with a history of probing the tales that we tell ourselves and get others believing, as seen in stone-cold revenge-thriller classic Oldboy, 2022's best film Decision to Leave and 2018 miniseries The Little Drummer Girl: the inimitable Park Chan-wook. He co-created The Sympathizer for the screen with Don McKellar (Blindness) and it always bears is imprint, whether or not he's directing episodes — he helms three — with his piercing style, or getting help from Fernando Meirelles (who has been busy with this and Sugar) and Marc Munden (The Third Day). 

The Sympathizer streams via Binge.



Across ten extremely amusing initial episodes in 2022, Loot had a message: billionaires shouldn't exist. So declared the show's resident cashed-up character, with Molly Wells (Maya Rudolph, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem) receiving $87 billion in her divorce from tech guru John Novak (Adam Scott, Madame Web), then spending most of the sitcom's first season working out what to do with it (and also how to handle her newly single life in general). That she had a foundation to her name was virtually news to her. So was much about everything beyond the ultra-rich. And, she was hardly equipped for being on her own. But Loot's debut run came to an entertaining end with the big statement that it was always uttering not so quietly anyway. So what happens next, after one of the richest people in the world decides to give away all of her money? Cue season two of this ace workplace-set comedy.

Created by former Parks and Recreation writers Alan Yang and Matt Hubbard, in their second Rudolph-starring delight — 2018's Forever was the first — Loot splices together three popular on-screen realms as it loosely draws parallels with Amazon founder Jeff Bezos and his philanthropist ex-wife MacKenzie Scott. At her charity, as Molly's staff become the kind of friends that feel like family while doing their jobs, shows such as 30 Rock and Superstore (which Hubbard also has on his resume) score an obvious sibling. As its protagonist endeavours to do good, be better and discover what makes a meaningful life, The Good Place (which Yang also wrote for) and Forever get company. And in enjoying its eat-the-rich mode as well, it sits alongside Succession and The White Lotus, albeit while being far sillier.

Loot streams via Apple TV+. Read our full review.


The Big Door Prize

If there was a Morpho machine IRL rather than just in The Big Door Prize, and it dispensed cards that described the potential of TV shows instead of people, this is what it might spit out about the series that it's in: "comforting". For a mystery-tinged dramedy filled with people trying to work out who they are and truly want to be after an arcade game-esque console appears in their small town, this page-to-screen show has always proven both cathartic and relatable viewing. Its timing, dropping season one in 2023 as the pandemic-inspired great reset was well and truly in full swing, is a key factor. Last year as well as now — with season two currently upon us — this is a series that speaks to the yearning to face existential questions that couldn't be more familiar in a world where COVID-19 sparked a wave of similar "who am I?" musings on a global scale. The difference for the residents of Deerfield in this second spin: their journey no longer simply involves pieces of cardboard that claim to know where the bearer should be expending their energy, but also spans new animated videos that transform their inner thoughts and hopes into 32-bit clips.

When the Morpho first made its presence known, high-school teacher Dusty (Chris O'Dowd, Slumberland) was cynical. Now he's taking the same route as everyone else in his community — including his wife Cass (Gabrielle Dennis, The Upshaws) and daughter Trina (Djouliet Amara, Fitting In) — by letting it steer his decisions. But whether he's making moves that'll impact his marriage, or his restaurant-owning best friend Giorgio (Josh Segarra, The Other Two) is leaping into a new relationship with Cass' best friend Nat (Mary Holland, The Afterparty), or other townsfolk are holding the Morpho up as a source of wisdom, easy happiness rarely follows. Season two of this David West Read (Schitt's Creek)-developed series still treats its magical machine as a puzzle for characters and viewers to attempt to solve, but it also digs deeper into the quest for answers that we all undertake while knowing deep down that there's no such thing as a straightforward meaning of life. As well as being extremely well-cast and thoughtful, it's no wonder that The Big Door Prize keeps feeling like staring in a mirror — and constantly intriguing as well.

The Big Door Prize streams via Apple TV+. Read our full review.


An Excellent Recent Film You Might've Missed

Showing Up

Kelly Reichardt and Michelle Williams are one of cinema's all-time great pairings. After 2008's Wendy and Lucy, 2010's Meek's Cutoff and 2016's Certain Women, all divine, add Showing Up to the reasons that their collaborations are an event. Again, writer/director Reichardt hones in on characters who wouldn't grace the screen otherwise, and on lives that rarely do the same. With her trademark empathy, patience and space, she spends time with people and problems that couldn't be more relatable as well. Her first picture since 2019's stunning First Cow, which didn't feature Williams, also feels drawn from the filmmaker's reality. She isn't a sculptor in Portland working an administration job at an arts and crafts college while struggling to find the time to create intricate ceramic figurines, but she is one of America's finest auteurs in an industry that so scarcely values the intricacy and artistry of her work. No one needs to have stood exactly in Showing Up's protagonist's shoes, or in Reichardt's, to understand that tussle — or the fight for the always-elusive right balance between passion and a paycheque, all while everyday chaos, family drama and the minutiae of just existing also throws up roadblocks.

Showing Up couldn't have a better title. For Lizzy (Wiliams, The Fabelmans), who spends the nine-to-five grind at her alma mater with her mother (Maryann Plunkett, Manifest) as her boss, everything she does — or needs or wants to — is about doing exactly what the movie's moniker says. That doesn't mean that she's thrilled about it. She definitely isn't happy about her frenemy, neighobour and landlord Jo (Hong Chau, Asteroid City), who won't fix her hot water, couldn't be more oblivious to anyone else's problems and soon has her helping play nurse to an injured pidgeon. Reichardt spins the film's narrative around Lizzy's preparations for a one-night-only exhibition, including trying to carve out the hours needed to finish her clay pieces amid her job, the bird, advocating for a liveable home, professional envy and concerns for her alienated brother (John Magaro, Past Lives). The care and detail that goes into Lizzy's figurines is mirrored in Reichardt's own efforts, in another thoughtful and resonant masterpiece that does what all of the filmmaker's masterpieces do: says everything even when nothing is being uttered, proves a wonder of observation, boasts a pitch-perfect cast and isn't easily forgotten.

Showing Up streams via Netflix.


Need a few more streaming recommendations? Check out our picks from January, February and March this year, and also from January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November and December 2023.

You can also check out our running list of standout must-stream shows from last year as well — and our best 15 new shows of 2023, 15 newcomers you might've missed, top 15 returning shows of the year, 15 best films, 15 top movies you likely didn't see, 15 best straight-to-streaming flicks and 30 movies worth catching up on over the summer.

Published on April 30, 2024 by Sarah Ward
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