The 17 best TV performances of 2023

The entire cast of turned in excellent performances in season two, but no one had more to chew on (sorry) than Sophie Nélisse, who plays the teenage version of . When we first meet Nélisse’s Shauna this season, she’s pregnant, starving, freezing, and—who could forget?—chit-chatting with her best friend Jackie’s (Ella Purnell) corpse. As the season goes on, she’ll nibble on said best friend’s ear, chop up a body or two, lead a cannibalistic bacchanal, and undergo one of the most harrowing birth scenes ever recorded. Nélisse handles this last moment with stunning gravitas and a level of commitment that turns what could have been a relatively overwrought endeavor into one of the most memorable and grounded performances of the year. Nélisse and her doomed wilderness baby apparently , and it’s certainly not hard to see why. [Emma Keates]

Paired with Tim Baltz, stood out in what is probably the best comedic ensemble on television, . As Judy Gemstone, she matches Danny McBride’s undeserved confidence as she attempts to hide her scandals this season, putting on the brave face of a loudmouth to throw her dopey husband and moronic brothers off the scent of her affairs. Patterson has always been an asset, able to match wits and volume with the boisterous cast of idiots and grifters. But more than her other castmates, she’s able to slip into the different modes of the show. Whether it be the erotic thriller subplot she played with Baltz, the power games of succession with McBride and Adam DeVine, or the Christian pop star who’s finally found confidence outside her family, Patterson conjures Judy’s rage, desire, and pain into one of the most original and aggressive comedy characters on TV. [Matt Schimkowitz]

boasts a deceptively . Sure, the beats feel familiar, but that’s exactly what makes Charlie Cale so inviting. You’ve already bought into Lyonne’s particular charm before pressing play, which means you might miss that she’s also delivering a peak performance. She presents tension, terror, and trauma as easily as she does humor and heart. A premise that may feel absurd on its face comes off as real and human in her hands. Charlie may have a superpower, but she’s ultimately an everywoman—lower class, down on her luck, with an extraordinary capacity for empathy that helps her connect with all kinds of people, all across America. She’s joined in every episode by an all-star supporting cast, but Poker Face wouldn’t work as well as it does without the talent and charisma of Lyonne anchoring the show at its center. [Mary Kate Carr]

has quietly been giving jaw-dropping villainous performances in for the past few years. In season four, he steps up his game as Joe Goldberg becomes more unhinged. Badgley is initially disarming and awkwardly charming. And that explains a lot about the plot and why the other characters are often drawn to him, whether he’s working at a bookstore or, as seen this year, teaching at an elite British university in a plaid suit. It’s a marvel when he peels back Joe’s layers to reveal the monster hiding in plain sight. This happens gradually in season four, which morphs from to a . For proof, look no further than episode eight, “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?”, arguably the most terrifying You hour to date. Joe learns about his split personality and how he’s the Rhys Montrose who’s kidnapped Marienne (Tati Gabrielle). And You’s exploration of Joe’s psychosis only works because Badgley is so game. [Saloni Gajjar]

Thus far, I’m not as smitten with this chapter of as our excellent recapper Tom Philip is, but I’ve nevertheless been pretty knocked out by Juno Temple’s sharp turn as a modern-day—sorry, 2019—suburban housewife. She sports the best “oh yah?” Fargo-y accent in the cast, with a “Minnesota nice” demeanor that allows her to be both a perky stay-at-home mom who whips up Bisquick batter at all hours and a “tiger”—which, like her name, Dot, seems to reference Frances McDormand’s character in Raising Arizona—who booby-traps her abode, Home Alone-style, to take down any invaders, . [Tim Lowery]

Boots Riley’s is a lot of things: a satire of the superhero narrative, a righteously furious look at capitalism and incarceration, and a trippy, sci-fi-tinged story about a teenager named Cootie. At the center of all of this stands , whose Cootie anchors us amid the madness and confusion unfolding over I’m A Virgo’s seven episodes. As the series begins, a 13-foot-tall Cootie has been hidden from the world for 19 years, and is seeing it with virgin eyes. As such, we’re seeing someone become radicalized against all of the world’s injustices. Jerome threads this coming-of-age story through its political, absurdist needle, and makes it look easy. [Drew Gillis]

Drew Tarver’s Cary Dubek was always as off-putting as he was endearing in the way only an actor can be. In ’s first two seasons, we saw him struggle and debase himself before he finally got his first big role in Night Nurse. should have seen him taking a victory lap, but the taste of notoriety combined with the lack of pageantry for a pandemic movie premiere only left him more deranged. Tarver nailed Cary’s obsession, turning his quest for success—without really questioning what “success” is—into a full-tilt nervous breakdown, making this quite possibly the most hysterical psychodrama of the year. [Drew Gillis]

’s Ava Coleman is a tough nut to crack. She’s obnoxious and lazy, a.k.a. the things you explicitly don’t want to see in a public school principal. Yet the show never crosses a line to make her insufferable or unlikeable, and neither does . On the contrary, her pitch-perfect comedic timing, delivery, and hints of vulnerability make it impossible to not love Ava. James, a stand-up, brings that specific style of comedy to her performance. It means she makes quips and drops one-liners like a pro and, when necessary, toes the line by evolving Ava in sweet, surprising ways. In its second season, Abbott allows Ava to mature more organically, and the actor follows suit, bringing her character to life with zest. Everyone in the ABC sitcom’s ensemble is genuinely great, but without James, the humor simply wouldn’t hit as hard. [Saloni Gajjar]

has gotten a lot of praise (and ) since its debut on HBO. The series, based on the video game of the same name, follows survivor and smuggler Joel (Pascal) and Ellie’s (Bella Ramsay) harrowing attempt to cross the country. Their journey is complicated by the fact that the world is suffering from an outbreak of the Cordyceps virus, which turns people into aggressive, zombie-like creatures. The familiar story stands out because of Craig Mazin and Neil Druckmann’s incredible writing, and because of Pascal’s monumental ability to bring it to life. He plays Joel as a man whose past trauma has rendered him effectively numb. As the series progresses, Pascal and Ramsey work together to crack Joel open and finally allow him to feel again, with devastating results. The series refuses to give any easy answers about the morality of Joel’s last act in season one. All we have is his performance to explain why he does what he does—and it’s a testament to Pascal’s incredible acting skills that we ultimately understand Joel’s perspective. [Jen Lennon]

struck gold with its young cast: Devery Jacobs, D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai, Paulina Alexis, and Lane Factor are each rising stars who performed in FX’s ingenious comedy with all their might. Together, they complete the crew to form a perfect puzzle piece. Still, in season three (the show’s last), Reservation Dogs allows Jacobs to deliver a sublime performance as Elora Danan figures out what she wants from life—and no, it’s not to run away from her rural Oklahoma life like an angsty kid once again. As Elora grows up and plans for her future, including reconnecting with her father (played by Ethan Hawke), Jacobs imbues her character with palpable emotion, hope, and clarity. It’s a version of Elora no one has seen before, which makes the performance even more special. Additionally, Jacobs wrote and helmed episodes throughout the season, making her even more of a multitalented breakout. [Saloni Gajjar]

It seems will end with a criminal lack of Emmys for its writing and performances, but true fans will always appreciate the zeal that went into Nicholas Hoult’s Peter III and Elle Fanning’s Catherine. But of course, it’s Fanning who is the Great at the center of it all. She managed to convey Catherine’s cunning intelligence and charming naivete, her dueling passions for Russia and her husband, her revolutionary vigor, and her mounting frustration at being continually thwarted, all with overwhelming amounts of charm, grace, and humor. , depicting her grief and grit in the most perilous moment of her rule she’s yet faced. The enduring image will be her widow’s dance in the final scene of the series: Here is a Catherine who has won most of what she set out to achieve in the first season, and the journey was more wrenching and liberating than she ever could have imagined. It’s a complicated triumph for Catherine, but an unadulterated one for Elle Fanning. [Mary Kate Carr]

The show might be called , but . Essentially playing several characters, sometimes more than one at a time, Sally finally got everything she wanted and lost it all. Then got it all again and lost it all again. That resentment, regret, and rage are all over the final season’s fifth episode, “tricky legacies,” when co-creator Bill Hader gives Goldberg a moment to truly shine. Hiding out in the middle of nowhere, Goldberg plays Sally living as another woman and using that new persona to unlock more dangerous sides of her personality. Sally, an actor by trade, goes full method, playing a character around the clock and often testing the limits of what that character can do. In one scene, she’s a black widow, luring in local dirtbags for her amusement and asserting some control over her life; in others, she’s Norma Desmond, applying the makeup that conceals her ruined life. Barry was always a show defined by plot twists and surprises. With season four, Goldberg isn’t just a surprise. She’s a revelation. [Matt Schimkowitz]

Zahn McClarnon is finally enjoying long overdue success with roles in season two, and, more recently, , , and the upcoming MCU series . But the actor reigns in AMC’s momentous Western thriller, . In one of this year’s best shows, McClarnon reminds us of his prolific leading-man abilities. He commands the screen as Sheriff Joe Leaphorn, leaving us with no choice but to get sucked in. allows his character a few moments of levity, sure. But as he investigates a difficult case in his Native American town, with his son’s killer surfacing, McClarnon is purely gut-wrenching. His subtle facial expressions as he grieves, processes, fights, and comforts those around him are a sight to behold. [Saloni Gajjar]

Richie grows the fuck up! Sort of! In ’s fantastic second season, the show’s comic relief, the kind of guy who drops, unironically, insults that would get him thrown into a meeting with HR if he worked anywhere else, tries to find his purpose. And along the way, the series shows us a deeper, fuller character, one who cares about his daughter and hasn’t gotten over his ex (a great Gillian Jacobs). What’s more, Moss-Bachrach gave us this bit of analysis in his : “Richie was an Army brat and moved around a lot, so he’s not actually a Chicago native. He probably didn’t get there until he was a teenager, 12, 13 years old. So some of that accent, in my opinion, is a choice he’s making rather than something he inherited from the world around him.” Which is all a long way of saying: This is my favorite character on TV right now, and Moss-Bachrach paints him just wonderfully. [Tim Lowery]

Ali Wong’s performance in Beef might be 2023’s biggest acting surprise. . That’s why it was an undeniably great revelation to see her brilliant turn as Amy Lau in Netflix’s series. Wong zeroes in on her craft like a pro, going toe-to-toe with Steven Yeun, who is also profoundly magnetic here. Beef relies heavily on Amy gradually examining herself from the inside out—her marriage, her culture, her professional goals, and her identity. It happens over time while beefing with Danny, with Wong stunningly portraying that journey. She strives to ensure the audience experiences the visceral feelings with her, whether it’s unfiltered rage or complete loneliness. As Amy embraces recklessness, Wong embraces her dramatic side. And it results in one hell of an acting arrival. [Saloni Gajjar]