Every year, we invite staff and regular contributors to nominate TV series for Greater Goodies, the awards we give to stories that exemplify or illustrate kindness, community, empathy, and more keys to well-being. Here’s what we came up with this year:The Boroughs, Death by Lightning, Envidiosa, The Hawk, Heated Rivalry, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, Lucky, Murderbot, Pluribus, and Shrinking.
The Aging-as-a-Virtue Award: The Boroughs (Netflix)
Name the last show you’ve seen that features a hero over the age of 60. Drawing a blank? It’s not your fault—the media’s modus operandi is to equate heroism with youthfulness. Netflix’s The Boroughs flips this stereotype on its head.
With a star-studded lead cast, all 70 or older, we follow Sam Cooper’s (Alfred Molina) experience as he reluctantly moves into a senior living community in New Mexico after the death of his wife. But a series of strange events suggests that this is no ordinary retirement community.
As Sam navigates grief, new friendships, and a new identity, he joins forces with his neighbors to solve and resolve the community mystery. Overcoming obstacles like age discrimination and self-doubts, the group peels back the layers of the strange occurrences. At the root of the mystery is a societal fear of aging.
The show highlights what researcher Margie Lachman calls “crystallized intelligence”: the culmination of life experience, memory, and know-how. In The Boroughs, that turns out to be just as heroic as super human strength or the ability to fly
The Purpose Award: Death by Lightning (Netflix)
History has already told us how Death by Lightning ends: Charles Guiteau will assassinate President James Garfield in 1881. But why? That’s one of the questions explored by the series, and it finds motivation in a sense of purpose–how purpose forms and how people come to cross-purposes.
Garfield (Michael Shannon) is principled and drawn reluctantly into a presidential contest he entered to nominate someone else. Guiteau (Matthew Macfadyen), meanwhile, is disturbingly sympathetic: charming, articulate, and desperate to do something meaningful with his life. Despite failed ventures, including a stint at the Oneida free-love commune, he remains convinced greatness awaits him. Believing his campaigning secured Garfield’s victory, he expects a government position to confirm his worth.
As their stories converge, Garfield finds purpose in his presidency: fighting corruption while supporting education and equal opportunity. Guiteau pursues a reward he feels he deserves, an entitlement that leads to tragedy.
In these ways, Garfield and Guiteau offer sharply contrasting answers to what makes a life meaningful, and watching their stories unfold side by side, we see how differently the desire to matter can play out.
Who you really ought to be watching closely is Garfield’s Vice President, Chester A. Arthur (Nick Offerman). A comfortable beneficiary of the political machine, he becomes an unlikelyed, and increasingly affecting as the demands of office begin to collide with old loyalties
In a political landscape that can leave us cynical–in both the 19th century and the 21st–the series makes room for something more hopeful: the possibility that even an unlikely person can rise to the occasion, if they know why they need to rise.– Aurelia Santos
The Empathy Award: Envidiosa (Netflix)
When almost-40-year-old Vicky (Griselda Siciliani) breaks up with her long-term boyfriend, she is driven to embark upon a journey of self-discovery.
At first, Vicky is just looking for a replacement for her boyfriend—but the problem is that her compulsive comparisons with other women sabotage attempts to connect with other people. (Indeed, the name of this Argentinian show, Envidiosa, means “envious.”) Vicky is self-absorbed and yet at the same time she doesn’t have a strong sense of her own self.
We see this vividly in her hilarious sessions with her therapist. When, for example, she goes on an envious rant about a friend’s milestone, she is forced to confront the quiet, uncomfortable realization that she never once asked how her friend actually felt. In short, Vicky is not a polished role model—and over the course of four seasons, we see her empathy grow through the painful process of unlearning self-centeredness.
Personally, I see Envidiosa as an opportunity to question how we show up for others’ joys and struggles, and I take it as an invitation to reflect: How can I empathize with the ups and downs of those around me? Envidiosa is a funny and at times embarrassingly relatable story about trying to become a more empathic human being and friend
The Zest-for-Life Award: The Hawk(Netflix)
In The Hawk, washed-up professional golfer Lonnie “The Hawk” Hawkins (Will Ferrell) has made a miracle comeback into the PGA tour—this time around, facing a tough competitor in his son, Lance (Jimmy Tatro).
It’s a screwball comedy, full of dirty jokes and a rapid-fire rapport between Lonnie and his not-quite-ex-wife, Stacy (Molly Shannon). A makeshift-caddy he “picked up at Walmart” (while chatting up the parking lot, from his camper van) adds to the fun, serving up an unlikely duo that seem happy just to be alive.
Even when he’s pretty down and out, Lonnie is looking on the bright side of things. Everything is done with gusto—he chats up the golf ball before each swing, he devours plates of Buffalo Wild Wings, he plays mini golf with his son and makes it a full-on competition.
“Son, never play golf angry,” he tells Lance. For Lonnie, life is all about golf—and golf is all about fun. Why spend all your time on something if you aren’t doing it for the joy of it?
I especially love Lonnie’s adoration for his estranged wife, a firecracker in her own right. In episode four, when the Hawk crashes his son’s engagement party–yes, you read that right–and then attempts a getaway with his caddie in the van, Stacy hurls the cake at them, along with a string of expletives.
It doesn’t even phase him. “You gotta love the passion!” Lonnie gushes. “That is one hot tamale!”
The Bridging Differences Award: Heated Rivalry
Heated Rivalryfollows stick-crossed lovers Shane and Ilya as they figure out how to be intimate within the highly competitive, homophobic environment of professional hockey.
At first, Shane and Ilya swap fluids more readily than emotions. But over the course of six episodes, the two learn to love across gaps in culture, language, and experience. In one pivotal scene, Shane invites Ilya to speak vulnerably about family dynamics in Ilya’s native Russian—despite not understanding a word of it.
That works because Shane does not focus attention on himself. Instead, he stays present on the phone, serving as a witness to Ilya’s visceral emotions. Their connection lies in felt care, in hearing the texture of another’s heartbreak.
In similar fashion, Ilya grounds Shane in stressful encounters. He supports Shane through panic without wallowing in his lover’s fear and entices Shane to relish pleasures outside of straight standards. As a couple, they help each other explore complex parts of themselves. We see a similar process unfold in another couple in the show, as they learn to respect each other’s different needs.
People might tune into Heated Rivalry for locker room towel drops and HBO’s glossy cinematography. They should stay to see a couple learn to love each other’s differences. The show exemplifies how bridging differences, at its best, means supporting others to more fully encounter themselves, and how in the process our relationships can grow.
With plenty of additional homoerotic stick-and-ball games to pull on from the novels of Rachel Reid, the next season of Heated Rivalry is expected to air on HBO Max and Canada’s Crave in Spring 2027
The Integrity Award: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms (HBO)
The monstrously successful HBO series Game of Thrones famously tossed out a lot of good-and-evil fantasy tropes to tell a morally complicated story of how power corrupts even the best people. A prequel called House of the Dragon shares that worldview.
That’s why a new prequel called A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms came as something of a surprise to fans. Unlike the other two series, this is not a story about a struggle for power. Instead, it focuses on a rather naive, not-too-bright “hedge knight” named Duncan (Peter Claffey) seeking to be hired by whatever lord will take him. Though Duncan is taller and stronger than most, he’s touchingly childlike as he tries to find his place in the merry old kingdoms of Westeros.
The first two episodes are shockingly funny and charming, as Duncan acquires a squire in the form of a little bald boy going by the name Egg (Dexter Sol Ansell), and fumblingly tries to enter a jousting tournament. And then Duncan finds himself on a collision course with the great and powerful of Westeros. When violence finally comes, there’s nothing casual about it. We feel the force of every blow, the tragedy of every death, and the erosion of Duncan’s innocence.
I’m giving A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms the award for integrity, but I can’t tell you why without spoiling the ending. Let’s just say that the series turns out to be the story of how one simple young man discovers what is most important to him—and finds the courage to stick to that path even in the face of isolation, temptations, and threats
The Redemption Award: Lucky (Apply TV)
How do you exit a life you were born into?
That’s the question behind Lucky, starring Anya Taylor-Joy. Lucky was raised by her con-artist father and taught the “family business” from a young age—but when we meet her, she navigating internal conflict with the life she’s been told to live and the life she wants for herself.
Her desire to quit is complicated by her marriage to Cary, the son of a ruthless mob leader, who was also socialized into a life of crime. The couple plan one final con as their exit strategy, but it goes terribly wrong. Lucky sets out to resolve the botched plan, reconcile her marriage, and protect both her life and her father’s.
Her intelligence is put to the test as she puts the pieces together, connects the dots, and outsmarts her rivals. In the process she discovers her own virtue—and that the intelligence which made her a successful con artist can also set her free.
Through the course of the series, she realizes that she does not have to pay for the sins of her father. Having never been given the opportunity for self-determination, she makes peace in the best way she knows how and chooses a new path
The Belonging Award: Murderbot (Apple TV)
The Murderbot Diaries are a series of science-fiction novellas by Martha Wells, about a genderless, robotic soldier who manages to achieve free will. Since discovery will result in deactivation and since it doesn’t like humans very much anyway, Murderbot conceals its freedom of mind and consumes a lot of human-made entertainment inside its own head, even as it externally follows every order given to it by the evil corporation that owns it. Murderbot even has a favorite TV show: the Star-Trek-like Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon.
As a result of this isolation, the novellas are built almost entirely around its memorable inner monologues, with a voice that is by turns snarky, vulnerable, cold-blooded, disgusted, and puzzled. One of the things that makes these books distinctive is that Murderbot is not Pinocchio—it has no wish to become a “real boy.” It doesn’t want a gender, or the same feelings and drives as people. It just wants to be itself—and to have that difference respected.
While the Apple TV show based on the books is not quite that original or interesting, Murderbot retains its focus on finding the balance between belonging and difference. When we meet Murderbot (Alexander Skarsgård), he’s been hired to protect a group of polyamorous hippie scientists who hail from a utopian colony that exists independently of the corporations that rule the rest of the galaxy.
They are Murderbot’s first encounter with humans not shaped by dehumanizing hyper-capitalistic values, and they observe Murderbot in a way the corporate humans cannot. Over the course of the first season, they begin to realize that there is more to Murderbot than meets the eye, and they learn to see and appreciate Murderbot on its own terms. But what’s crucial is not that they perceive the humanity in Murderbot—it’s that Murderbot sees the humanity (and the goodness) in them.
In time, it becomes an accepted part of their society—without becoming more like them. Even so, the first season concludes on a tough-minded, melancholy note, as Murderbot itself can’t quite feel like it belongs. Will it someday find a place among these crunchy idealists? Stay tuned: The second season is coming in 2027
The Difficult-Human-Appreciation Award: Pluribus (Apple TV)
Have you ever been among people but you didn’t feel part of the crowd? Like they were in on a joke that you just couldn’t get?
Welcome to Carol Sturka’s world. The science-fiction premise of Pluribus is that an alien virus transforms humanity into one big happy hive mind—everyone except Carol and 13 other people who seem to have immunity.
Even among those remaining individuals, though, Carol stands out as a malcontent. We sense that she’s been a fish out of water for her whole life.
Indeed, not every viewer will find Carol relatable or likable. When we first meet her, she’s at a bookstore event promoting her highly successful romantasy series. With her fans, she’s charming, funny, and kind. When she gets into a limo after a big sendoff by readers, the drivers asks if she’s famous.
“That depends,” Carol replies. “Are you a big fan of mindless crap?”
In short, Carol hates herself, her work, and her readers. And as we discover, her personality is snarky, uptight, stubborn, and uncompromising. When the virus hits, it’s an apocalyptic event, but Carol doesn’t change one bit—and her traits become both a blessing and a curse. The whole world wants to be kind to her, but Carol can’t accept kindness. That drives her to fight back. And that’s what ultimately makes her the hero of the story.
In the end, Pluribus is a very Greater Good thought experiment. It takes prosociality to its limits and finds that a total togetherness, empathy, and cooperation to the exclusion of selfishness, crankiness, and boundaries is a self-destructive dystopia, not a utopia. The show seems to argue that humanity needs difficult people like Carol to survive, and so invites us to appreciate what the Carols of the world have to offer
The Deep Listening Award: Shrinking (AppleTV)
In Shrinking, talking and listening are the name of the game. Jimmy (Jason Segel) is a widowed psychotherapist who helps patients navigate anxiety, OCD, PTSD, and other ailments as he himself is floundering.
But he’s not alone. His teenage daughter, overbearing-but-lovable neighbors, and coworker-friends (with Harrison Ford as the curmudgeonly head of the practice) are all there to help him when his life goes off the rails after his wife was killed by a drunk driver.
In its three-season run, the series is heavy-handed with its use of therapy-speak among the whole gang, whether between therapist-to-patient, therapist-to-daughter, or therapist-to-therapist. Characters “feel seen.” More times than I can count, they tell each other “I hear you.” We witness, in detail, exchanges inside the therapy office—and outside of it, in a rogue practice known as “Jimmying,” where therapy takes place at such venues as, for instance, the boxing ring.
In other words, there’s a lot of “deep listening”: the practice of being present, open, and empathic with another person, in a way that goes beyond just hearing and understanding words. In his grief, Jimmy himself is not always a perfect deep listener. He tends to talk more than a typical therapist, and frequently injects himself into the discussion. Shrinking isn’t about perfection—it’s about struggling to connect and growing in the process. – Hope Reese
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