10 TV Shows To Watch If You Like Your Friends & Neighbors

Few current TV shows are as consistently entertaining and addictive as “Your Friends & Neighbors.” Created by Jonathan Tropper and already renewed for Season 3 on Apple TV, this dark-comedy-slash-campy-drama series alternates between belly laughs and genuine tension as it follows Andrew “Coop” Cooper (Jon Hamm), a wealthy hedge fund manager whose life unravels after a power move from his boss (Corbin Bernsen) pushes him out of the industry. Forced into a rental home and facing few prospects of employment at his former income level, Coop leverages his relationships with his wealthy Westmont Village neighbors into a new career as a burglar.

With some of the sharpest writing on Apple TV, “Your Friends & Neighbors” turns Coop’s journey into a tragicomic examination of the eccentricities, absurdities, and moral failings of America’s economic elite, led by an infuriatingly charismatic antihero who steals from the rich to enrich himself. The show’s giddy accumulation of twists and screeching turns along a precipitous narrative has already made it a sensation, and, with Season 2 having just recently wrapped up, it’s more than likely that a lot of fans may be in want of something to fill the gap until Season 3 comes along. To that end, we’ve put together a list of 10 great shows to watch if you like “Your Friends & Neighbors” — ranging from fellow comedy-strewn crime thrillers to similarly-themed dramas to other showcases for Jon Hamm’s acting chops.

Prior to changing the industry with Netflix’s “Orange Is the New Black,” Jenji Kohan made her name in the TV world as the creator of Showtime’s “Weeds,” another gnarly dramedy series about female antiheroes existing in the fringes of standard American television stories. Premiering two years before “Breaking Bad” and notable as a major precursor to it, “Weeds” stars Mary-Louise Parker as Nancy Botwin, a suburban mother in the San Fernando Valley who, finding herself short on options for maintaining her family’s upper-middle-class lifestyle after her husband’s death, begins selling marijuana.

“Weeds” became a precursor not just to “Breaking Bad” with its middle-class-parent-turns-to-dealing premise, but also to much of the 2010s television landscape, demonstrating that sharp, half-hour doses of dark comedy could serve as the foundation for engaging and affecting character drama. Splitting its time between scorching suburban satire and a rocky, grief-stricken story about the difficulties of starting over and making life work, the show has oscillations in quality across its eight seasons and 102 episodes, but never loses the cheeky irreverence that originally set it apart in the 2000s.

It’s a hugely worthwhile show either way, but it’s particularly worth singling out as one of the key forebears to “Your Friends & Neighbors.” The Apple TV series echoes “Weeds” in multiple ways: the basic hook of a well-to-do suburbanite resorting to crime; the dramatically compelling, frequently pulse-pounding, yet relentlessly snarky tone; and, of course, the presence of a brilliant, blisteringly charismatic star at the center.

A team-up between two actors of such generational caliber and immeasurable charm as Brian Tyree Henry and Wagner Moura would be reason alone to give any show a watch, but Apple TV’s Peter Craig-created “Dope Thief” doesn’t stop at being a mere star vehicle. Adapted from the eponymous 2009 novel by Dennis Tafoya, “Dope Thief” is a high-grade crime drama that leverages its heady, singular hook into a nail-biting refraction of traditional genre tropes. Henry and Moura play Ray Driscoll and Manny Carvalho, childhood best friends in Philadelphia who pose as DEA agents to rob drug dealers, drawing on knowledge gained from their own pasts in the trade.

The plot of the show’s lone eight-episode season kicks into high gear when Ray and Manny attempt to rob a meth lab. They barely escape an explosion with a stack of cash and product, unaware that one of the cooks who witnessed it all (Marin Ireland) is actually an undercover DEA agent. A cascade of stressful standoffs, negotiations, getaways, and close calls ensues as Ray and Manny struggle to maneuver their situation while ensuring the well-being of the loved ones for which they got into it all in the first place.

Although there’s less of an ironic edge to the mounting danger of “Dope Thief” compared to “Your Friends & Neighbors,” it’s otherwise a prime example of a similar — and similarly bingeworthy — in-house genre cousin. Give it a try, and there’s a good chance Henry and Moura’s balancing act between buddy-comedy energy and vulnerable, nerve-racking drama will have you hooked in no time.

Apple TV has carved itself out a kind of niche for dark, acerbic comedy-dramas taken with the intersection between ordinary life and criminal activity, and one of the best entries in that niche is “Bad Sisters.” An Irish adaptation of the Belgian TV series “Clan,” “Bad Sisters” was developed by Sharon Horgan, Dave Finkel, and Brett Baer. It stars Horgan as Eva, the protective eldest of the close-knit Garvey family, a group of five Dublin sisters who have stuck together since their parents’ passing.

As the series begins, the Garvey sisters are increasingly worried about Grace (Anne-Marie Duff), who has been largely absent from their lives due to her abusive, controlling husband John Paul (Claes Bang). The first season then splits into two parallel timelines. One follows the aftermath of John Paul’s death and an insurance investigation into possible foul play, while the other charts the lives of the five sisters leading up to it.

But was there foul play? Did the sisters mean anything by their first-episode jokes about killing John Paul? And will their lives be upended by the two desperate insurance agents (Brian Gleeson and Daryl McCormack) on their trail? These and other mysteries make “Bad Sisters” a prickly and suspenseful watch, one that satisfies the same appetite for witty, tongue-in-cheek, yet addictive crime drama as “Your Friends & Neighbors.” And, thanks to its emotionally vivid writing, rugged sense of place, and magnificent ensemble of lead actresses, it’s also very much the kind of show that lingers in the mind long past the delivery of the twists.

The formidable trio of Christina Hendricks, Retta, and Mae Whitman headlines “Good Girls,” an NBC dramedy series that scores higher marks than virtually any other crime show in the relatability department. On the Jenna Bans-created series, Hendricks plays Beth Boland, a housewife in suburban Michigan who finds herself in a tight spot when her cheating husband Dean (Matthew Lillard) is revealed to have taken out several mortgages on their house. She teams up with her sister Sadie (Whitman), who is fighting for custody of her child (Isaiah Stannard), and her best friend Ruby Hill (Retta), who needs money for her daughter’s (Lidya Jewett) medical treatments. Together, the three carry out a risky heist at a local supermarket.

Although successful, the heist lands the three women in hot water with crime boss Rio (Manny Montana), and initiates a series of entanglements with further illegal activity as they attempt to dig themselves out of a deeper and deeper hole. “Good Girls,” in turn, becomes a twisty, hard-to-stop-watching ground-level caper with a strong enough sense of character to carry it swimmingly through even the most outrageous plot developments. Better yet, even as it mines compelling drama from its protagonists’ enervating situation, the show always hangs on to a cheeky, comedic tone that makes it an easygoing watch in spite of the high stakes. All of this, of course, makes “Good Girls” a great show to watch if you’re looking for something that strikes a similar chord to “Your Friends & Neighbors” — not least because it also features a “Mad Men” alum giving a blazing star turn.

Speaking of “Mad Men,” there’s no better place to turn if “Your Friends & Neighbors” has got you smitten with the screen presence of Jon Hamm. One of the best TV shows of the 21st century, the Matthew Weiner-created AMC series chronicles the lives of the executives and employees at a New York City advertising agency in the 1960s, with particular emphasis on the firm’s suave, successful, yet profoundly broken creative director, Don Draper (Hamm), and his rocky friendship with secretary-turned-copywriter Peggy Olson (Elisabeth Moss).

Rich in both period and character detail, “Mad Men” patiently unspools the inner lives of a vast ensemble over the course of seven flawless seasons, and charts the follies and vices of midcentury American culture with unflinching, clear-eyed intimacy. Any given episode can turn on a dime from gloomy character study to droll dark comedy to quasi-surreal fable, all carried off with some of the finest direction and cinematography in television history.

Even though it doesn’t have the same rollercoaster pull as “Your Friends & Neighbors” or share its overt crime thriller elements, “Mad Men” is another series that uses incisive, merciless, and often powerfully funny writing to peer behind the facade of happiness and success put up by the rich and powerful who live in the store window of the American dream. And, on both shows, Jon Hamm proves to be the ideal actor for the job of turning those contradictions into compelling, dashing-yet-pitiable human beings. “Mad Men” is essential viewing for any Jon Hamm fan and, frankly, for any television fan, full-stop.

The two seasons of the Lee Sung Jin-created Netflix series “Beef” are studies in the simmering, subcutaneous frustration of contemporary life — and the incendiary violence that frustration can wreak. Originally released as a miniseries, the first season follows Danny Cho (Steven Yeun) and Amy Lau (Ali Wong), two strangers whose lives collide when Danny nearly hits Amy’s SUV with his truck in a parking lot. The incident sparks a road-rage feud as they project their pent-up frustrations onto each other, leading to an obsessive spiral of mutual revenge.

After following Amy and Danny’s bloodshot tango for 10 episodes, “Beef” becomes an anthology in Season 2, shifting to a new story about a vicious escalation of conflict between seemingly ordinary people. This time, soon-to-be-married country club employees Ashley Miller (Cailee Spaeny) and Austin Davis (Charles Melton) blackmail their wealthy but debt-ridden boss, Josh Martín (Oscar Isaac), into paying for Ashley’s ovarian cyst treatment, while Josh struggles under the demands of the club’s billionaire new owner (Youn Yuh-jung).

Written and directed with piercing intelligence and sensitivity, “Beef” layers narrative mayhem until the viewer’s head is spinning right along with the characters’ — all while probing layers of character depth and subtle class commentary that wouldn’t necessarily be expected of such an explosive, twisty, fast-paced series. In that sense, it’s very much in line with “Your Friends & Neighbors,” right down to the darkly funny way it depicts the supposedly refined world of wealth and privilege while slyly revealing the anger and despair simmering beneath the surface.

When it comes to shows that excavate the dark secrets and emotional fissures underneath a surface of high-end living, no 21st-century production is more sophisticated or more entrancingly inquisitive than “Big Little Lies.” Written by TV legend David E. Kelley as an adaptation of Liane Moriarty’s novel of the same name, “Big Little Lies” takes place in Monterey, California, where a community of affluent residents is rocked by a series of mysteries stemming from events at a local elementary school.

A framing device tells us exactly where we’re headed: somebody’s going to die, the police will launch an extensive investigation, and the lives of Madeline Mackenzie (Reese Witherspoon), Celeste Wright (Nicole Kidman), Jane Chapman (Shailene Woodley), Bonnie Carlson (Zoë Kravitz), and Renata Klein (Laura Dern) will be picked apart by authorities and gossipy neighbors alike. As we peer into the stories of the five women, their children, and their families, “Big Little Lies” uses its interrogative structure to both spin out juicy melodrama and find searing, harrowing insight into the hearts and minds of every main character.

In other words, it’s both a phenomenal yarn and a gobsmacking piece of character-driven drama, qualities it retains in the originally unplanned Season 2 of “Big Little Lies”, which introduces Celeste’s shifty mother-in-law (Meryl Streep) into the mix. And it’s also an incredible show to watch if you’re looking for something in the same vein of twisty porcelain-slab mayhem as “Your Friends & Neighbors,” but with a somewhat more sober, more literary slant — which isn’t to say that “Big Little Lies” doesn’t also have plenty of humor.

Another notable mélange of taut crime thriller, pitch-black comedy, and quaint social commentary is “Fargo,” the FX anthology adaptation of the 1996 Coen brothers film classic. Although set in the same overall continuity as the film and loosely connected through occasional nods and bits of world-building, the series is very much its own beast. All five seasons of “Fargo” tell different stories about small-time criminal mishaps, misunderstandings, and acts of human pettiness that eventually escalate into gruesome disaster. Season 1 unfolds in snowy small-town Minnesota in 2006, while each subsequent season shifts to a different time period and, in the case of Season 4, a different state: Missouri.

At once relentlessly funny and hauntingly dark, with frequent detours into surrealism and existential mystery, “Fargo” is a surefire next watch if you love the eccentric characters and lurid tone of “Your Friends & Neighbors.” Both series share the same fundamental fascination with the capacity of crime and violence to disrupt mundane life, and the same eye for the awkward hilarity that comes with said disruption.

To top it off, Season 5 of “Fargo” stars Jon Hamm, who throws himself fearlessly into the detestable role of ranch owner, sheriff, and abusive patriarch Roy Tillman. He’s the season’s obvious villain, even in a world where no one’s morals are squeaky-clean. It’s a role that hugely benefits from the tension between Hamm’s innate charm and the sheer loathsomeness of the character he’s playing, and all the more reason to watch “Fargo.”

Of course, it’s impossible to discuss shows about people turning to crime out of financial desperation without mentioning “Breaking Bad.” The whole raison d’être of the Vince Gilligan-created series, one of the best AMC TV shows and one of the most influential television dramas ever made, is to explore the push and pull between Walter White’s ordinary life and the terrifying yet tantalizing world of power and violence that opens up before him as he becomes aware of his own potential as a criminal.

At first, Walt is just a gifted chemist who channels years of underappreciated skill and knowledge into producing the finest methamphetamine Albuquerque has ever seen. All of it, so he tells himself, is in service of treating his stage-three lung cancer and securing his family’s well-being. But the genius of “Breaking Bad” is that Walt secretly wants more: His decades of simmering middle-class resentment have stoked an explosive, all-consuming ego, and the journey up the ladder of the New Mexico drug trade becomes the perfect vessel for it.

This dark, deeply tragic character journey is carried out by “Breaking Bad” with one of the most singular tones of any modern prestige drama: Scorchingly serious and emotionally wrenching for the most part, but always just this side of hilarious in its mannered account of suburban life and the lowest, least glamorous rungs of the crime world. As a result, it’s highly recommended viewing if you love “Your Friends & Neighbors.” In fact, it’s one of the shows that most clearly influenced it.

Netflix’s “Ozark” puts a different spin on the descent-into-crime narrative by introducing its prim suburban nuclear family when they’re already several years down that road. The series, created by Bill Dubuque and Mark Williams, begins when Chicago financial advisor Marty Byrde (Jason Bateman) discovers that the dangers of his line of work have finally caught up with him. His business partner, Bruce Liddel (Josh Randall), attempts to skim $8 million from the Mexican drug cartel for which the pair have been laundering money since 2007 and is promptly killed by cartel lieutenant Camino “Del” Del Rio (Esai Morales). In a desperate last-ditch bid for survival, Marty convinces Del to let him set up a new laundering operation in the Ozarks, and hurriedly moves his family there — including his wife Wendy (Laura Linney), who was planning on leaving him.

“Ozark” subsequently structures itself as a crime caper of interfacing layers: The Byrdes bring their white-collar-crime haughtiness to an unfamiliar milieu already brimming with its own local criminal workings, and must adapt to their new home while simultaneously getting a taste for greater importance and sway in the cartel’s structure. It’s a gripping dog-eat-dog saga that understands the proximity between its sweaty violence and the individualistic, power-grubbing ethos at the core of the American dream, which makes it an apt companion to “Your Friends & Neighbors” even if it lacks its humorous bent. Both shows are unafraid to center immoral characters who will stop at nothing to maintain their lifestyles, and both transform that ugly pursuit into gripping television.