EastEnders (1985–present)
I don’t even know how to begin talking about how much I love EastEnders—it’s been central to my life on so many levels. Not only was I a dedicated viewer, on and off, for over 10 years, but there’s also just something about the show that feels homey. It forms the background of so many of my childhood memories because it’s been on terrestrial British Television FIVE days a week for the past 30 years, and just the opening theme—with the arial view of south east London and the song that everyone learned to play on the recorder at school—inspires such nostalgia in me that I sometimes whimper like a puppy when I happen to catch it on t’telly! My most fanatical EastEnders viewing years were probably 13-17, when I watched it every night without fail—it was just so reliable, and titillating! Plus, my parents hated it.
EastEnders is comprised of the dramas surrounding (and created by) several neighboring families on the fictional Albert Square, in the east end of London (everyone with prop’pa Cockney accents, awright mayte?). Here’s a brilliant thing about the show: The story lines are so sensational and long-running that you can pick it up and put it down again every few months at your whim, without feeling like you’ve missed out. Here’s something else I love about it: There are so many characters to relate to, to detest, and to get to know very intimately. (The cast, to my 14-year-old mind, were like a big crazy family I got to hang out with for half an hour each night. I later had these same feelings for the cast of Jersey Shore..but that’s a review for another time.)
Also, the storylines are bonkers. Death is frequent and everyone’s always marrying and divorcing and cheating on and murdering everybody else. But, as soaps go, it’s also very realistic, well written and acted, easy to pick up, and fantastically compelling. Somehow it does a great job of capturing a certain je-ne-sais-quoi about everyday life in London. Maybe it’s how they add the rumble of trains to scenes shot outside the tube [subway] station, or the shots of the fruit ‘n’ veg market, or the horrible decor in the local greasy spoon cafe, or how you can tell that everything in everybody’s houses came from the homeward sections of local supermarkets? Idk, I can’t put my finger on it. But whether I’m watching Sharon’s boyfriend die in a house fire saving Trevor, li’l Mo’s abusive ex-husband, or witnessing Ronnie sneak into the flat above the pub and switch the dead corpse of her newborn son with Kat Slater’s live baby, or seeing Lauren attempt to murder her mum even though she’s already dying… I always feel at home on good ole Albert Square. —Esme
The X-Files (Fox 1993–2002)
This show has everything: aliens, shapeshifting, liver-eating serial killers (“Tooms,” one of my favorite villains), a family of inbred murderers (see: “Home,” the absolute scariest episode). The X-Files follows FBI agents Fox Mulder (David Duchovny) and Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) as they investigate strange and unusual cases and attempt to uncover government conspiracies. Like most ’90s sci-fi/fantasy/horror shows, it has the obligatory computers-could-potentially-kill-us-all episode and, watching it now, the technology definitely feels outdated. Still, it stands the test of time; the characters are incredible, particularly the dynamic between Scully, the skeptic, and Mulder, the believer. Scully is heroically tough, physically capable, and incredibly smart, and Mulder… Well, what really hit me hard this second time watching, is that Mulder is haunted by a childhood trauma: the disappearance of his sister. These two frustrate me, make me laugh, and goddamn won’t they please just kiss already?! If you love aliens, monsters, conspiracies, and great characters, this is the show for you, and it’s the perfect time to binge watch because Fox is rebooting the show with a mini-series in January! Now that Mulder and Scully have smartphones, they may actually be able to save us all from those government men conspiring with aliens. —Stephanie
The Matrix Trilogy (1999–2003)
The first film in the Matrix trilogy came out when I was in high school, and for a solid year my friend and I discussed the film’s implications exhaustively over lunch. The basic premise of these cyberpunk movies is that humanity exists in a computer simulation of real life called the Matrix. My friend and I wondered if the fries we were eating were real, if our thoughts and emotions were just the result of artificial intelligence, and if nightmares and deja vu were really insights into our true reality—a reality just beyond our perception. The story, written and directed by Andy and Lana Wachowski, is brought to life on the screen using awesome special effects and deeply unsettling art direction: When the characters are inside the Matrix, the scenery is a sickly, sterile green; when they’re in the “real world,” everything is depressingly blue and brown. Keanu Reeves plays Neo, the main character, who attempts to uncover the truth about the Matrix and becomes aware of his own mortality in the process. It’s a groundbreaking character development arc, particularly when you consider it, as Annie Mok suggested, as an allegory for being trans (see this piece by Bootleg Girl). The plot spans three films: the first one is the best (critically, and with lots of amazing visual effects—especially for 1999!), and The Matrix Reloaded (2003) and The Matrix Revolutions (2003) further elaborate the story. The action sequences are truly dazzling, but the trilogy’s shining moment occurs when Morpheus takes Neo through his personal history, and what that means for the human race. I could deconstruct the trilogy’s references and overtones forever. —Meagan
Star Trek: The Original Series movies (1979–1991)
The affection that Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock shared in the ’60s Star Trek TV show inspired some of the first smutty fan-fiction ever, and their friendship only grows deeper in the movies made 10 years after the series was canceled in 1969. These movies’ focus on character distinguishes them from the cold, overwrought spectacle of most modern action films. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (the best starting point, despite how it throws you into the middle of the plot) tells a “Moby-Dick in space” story, driven by Khan’s obsession for destroying Kirk. It climaxes with two enemy ships desperately searching for each other in the fog of a nebula. The movies’ inscrutable weirdness only adds to their charm: in Star Trek: The Motion Picture a sentient energy cloud mystifies both the crew and the audience. Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home hinges on a mission to bring a pair of humpback whales—extinct in this vision of the future—from 1986 to the future to communicate with an alien probe that only speaks “humpback whale.” I’ve spent many long summer hours smiling in front of a fan and a TV with the cranky makeshift family of the Enterprise crew.
BONUS: The original Star Trek episode “Space Seed” introduces Ricardo Montalbán as Khan and sets up the events of Star Trek II; and the Futurama episode “Where No Fan Has Gone Before” skewers the series, guest-starring the voices of the original cast. —Annie
The Before Trilogy, (1995–2013)
Released over the span of almost 20 years, Before Sunrise (1995), Before Sunset (2004), and Before Midnight (2013) are almost impossible to fathom. The Trilogy charts the relationship between Jesse and Céline, played by Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy respectively, by focusing on just three single days in their lives. Richard Linklater, who directed the movies, also recently made Boyhood, which attempts a similar feat within a single film shot over 12 years, in which the characters age from scene to scene. That film is beautiful and slightly alarming—it feels like you’re watching life in fast forward—but the three Hawke/Delpy masterpieces unfold in real time, and you’re poured right into their lives the moment the films begin. You’re beside them as they talk and argue and walk and laugh and flirt. How often do you get to watch two fictional people fall in love, and then check in on them decades later? Hawke and Delpy are so natural with each other, and so funny, that their love is as real to me as any I’ve known. I want to watch them age and age and age, just peeking in every now and again to see how life is treating them. Linklater, if you’re listening, I’ll donate to the cause. —Emma S.
The Twilight Zone (1959–2003, CBS)
Created and hosted by a traumatized war veteran named Rod Serling, The Twilight Zone had its original television run as a television anthology series between 1959 and 1964. The show’s unique format (you have to watch it to really get it) makes it a vortex in itself. The intro invites the audience to “unlock” the door spinning onscreen “with the key of imagination,” and once you enter it’s impossible to turn away from the endless series of wonky situations and phenomena that Serling presents. If you like Ray Bradbury’s novels, you’ll probably be into this show. As you watch, the Twilight Zone will gradually peels back superficial layers to expand hard-hitting lessons about human nature, while keeping you compelled with its sci-fi appeal. Back in the 1960s, when Serling was first devising Twilight Zone, episodes probed and exposed troubling, taboo subjects including censorship, war, and racism. Since then, the show has gone through two revivals—the first from 1985 to 1989, and the second from 2002 to 2003. By charting his own course with his suspenseful series, Serling’s Twilight Zone has won, and is still winning, the attention of viewers. —Alyson
Antiques Roadshow (1997–present, PBS)
Antiques Roadshow is a long-running series on public access TV that travels to towns all over the US of A, where participants convene to have their antiques professionally appraised. People (mostly people of grandparent age) bring the most random and seemingly useless junk to the show, only to find out that it is worth THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS. I’ve watched people bring in an authentic Picasso sketch, a leather jacket worn by one of the Ramones, and Chinese jadeware from the 1700s. Sometimes the participants mention that they found the antique at a garage sale for $10. And the look on people’s faces when their heirloom chinaware or old toy rocking horse are appraised at ridiculous sums?! It’s is truly marvelous. They tremble, cry happy tears, and beam like spotlights. But sometimes their fancy antiques are worth next to nothing, and you feel your heart break along with their dejected faces. Part of the fun of watching Antiques Roadshow is guessing which objects are worth the most money. Kind of makes you wonder about that hideous ceramic vase that’s been sitting up in your parents’ attic since forever! —Meagan
Sesame Street (1969–present, PBS)
There are few television shows that can be referred to as “a gift,” but Sesame Street is definitely one of them. Now in its 45th season (in the United States—there are versions of the show running all over the world), Sesame Street was designed to provide a preschool education to kids who didn’t have access to preschool, but did have access to television. The result is one of the most creative and marvelous shows ever made–filled with Muppets, music, and incredible animation. Big Bird and his crew make learning fun, and the show emphasizes the importance of reading and playing and being a positive force in the world. For me, the lasting impact comes from the comedy in the Muppet sketches and the experimental art that the program has always showcased–Sesame Street showed me things I’d never seen before, and remains one of the best art teachers I ever had. —Pixie ♦