The best TV episodes of 2017

From dragon warfare on Game of Thrones to one mindfork of a twist on The Good Place, here are the episodes we loved from the past year.

From the get-go, The Bold Type addressed complex issues facing women, even if it managed to do so in a fun, upbeat manner. (Yoni egg, anyone?) But with its sixth episode, the series took a serious look at the BRCA gene and its implications when Jane (Katie Stevens) struggled with the decision to get tested for the gene, seeing that her mother died from breast cancer. The result was an hour that didn’t completely lose its lighter side but also delivered an honest, relatable, and — most important — impactful story. —Samantha Highfill

With its series finale, AMC’s life-affirming tech drama returned to the bold statement from its pilot: “Computers aren’t the thing. They’re the thing that gets us to the thing.” Sure, visionaries Donna (Kerry Bishé), Cameron (Mackenzie Davis), and Gordon (Scoot McNairy) didn’t create the next Google, but that doesn’t matter since those series of failures lead them to something more important: each other. As Donna and Cameron reunite after years on the outs, “Ten of Swords” reminds us that connection is the thing. What a vital idea for such a fractured age. —Chancellor Agard

There’s a peculiar rhythm to going out: the plans made then changed, the day-drinking parties with their tempting nighttime possibilities, the thrill of hooking up, the terror of the awkward hookup. No show captures all those hilarious, horrifying social complications like Insecure, especially in this episode directed by showrunner Prentice Penny. Issa (Issa Rae) and her friends head to a club full of former/-future lovers, while Issa’s ex Lawrence (Jay Ellis) has a surreal afternoon involving a tense traffic stop and the funniest threesome since Wild Things. A half hour of TV so exuberant you’ll get a contact high. —Darren Franich

Partly uplifting, mostly elegiac, and fully resonant, “Memphis” framed the bittersweet life — and death — of William (Ron Cephas Jones), poet-musician and terminally ill biological father of Randall (Sterling K. Brown). The pair road-tripped to William’s hometown, drank from a segregated drinking fountain, and jammed with a cousin (Brian Tyree Henry) before William’s body failed. Father reassured son, “You deserve the beautiful life you’ve made.” Son cradled scared father’s face, finally called him “Dad,” and guided him into the afterlife. Goodbye, beautiful borrowed time. Hello, ugly cry. —Dan Snierson

The shortest episode of GoT’s seventh season was also one of its finest. There was the empowering sparring scene between Arya (Maisie Williams) and Brienne (Gwendoline Christie). Bran’s (Isaac Hempstead-Wright) prophetic threat to Littlefinger (Aidan Gillen). Jon Snow (Kit Harington) confronting Theon Greyjoy (Alfie Allen) about his betrayal. But it was the fiery battle sequence that left fans jaw-dropped with its 747-size dragon action, giving us an on-the-ground view of what it would be like for an army to confront an incendiary monster. We actually felt sorry for the Lannisters (almost). —James Hibberd

A French nuclear submarine, an Olympic decathlete who might be God, a cult worshipping a lion with a maritime orgy: Yes, this was The Leftovers. The drama hit a new pinnacle of willful surrealism and existential trauma with this hour about Matt Jamison, a true believer afflicted with religious doubts more torturous than the cancer ravaging his body. The events play out with mythic absurdity, but Christopher Eccleston’s raw performance grounds the madness in sincere striving emotion, giving Matt’s every move the feeling of a final desperate prayer. —DF

This ode to the city features three short vignettes in a refreshing change of pace that largely ignores protagonist Dev (Aziz Ansari). Instead of training the spotlight on Dev as he bumbles (and Bumbles) through his 30s, the sweet half hour features a doorman frustrated with his building’s wealthy residents, a deaf cashier unsatisfied with her lover, and a taxi driver looking for a fun night out as the stars of the show. Sure, it’s just another day in NYC, but it’s one that shows how each person has a place in everyone’s story. —Shirley Li

Most season finales aim to please via closure or cliff-hanger. But the afterlife comedy’s season 1 capper earned infinite points by packing a twist that was, well, twisted. Deficient soul Eleanor (Kristen Bell) — along with her flawed friends — discovered that they were not in some slice of heaven lorded over by seemingly genial architect Michael (Ted Danson). Nope, they were in the Bad Place, and Michael was slyly doing the devil’s work by having them torture each other. Thanks, Good Place, for the complete and utter mind fork. —DS

With precise camerawork and a dreamy palette, the first three hours of The Handmaid’s Tale—directed by Reed Morano—firmly establish the nightmare-scape that is Gilead. But it’s “Late” that brings the nightmare home, showing just how quickly a democracy can fall, how a book editor (Elisabeth Moss) can become a piece of property renamed Offred. And whereas other shows do everything they can to build suspense in the moments leading up to violence, we learn — as does Offred’s walking partner (Alexis Bledel) — that swift, silent action can be even more brutal. Praise be. —Meeta Agrawal

Children never truly appreciate their parents until they’re gone. It’s a universal truth acknowledged and examined by Better Things co-creator, director, and star, Pamela Adlon, in this standout episode. Here we witness the hustle of single mom and moderately successful actress Sam (Adlon), teaching an acting seminar; uttering a single line of dialogue as the wife/girlfriend/female seat warmer in a car commercial. Sure, this isn’t Hollywood at its most glamorous, but Sam earns a paycheck and respect from her peers. But not so much from her children, who rudely channel surf right past one of Sam’s performances rerunning on TV. (RuPaul’s Drag Race is waiting, after all.) “It really hurts my feelings that my work means nothing to you,” she tells her daughters. “I don’t want to have to wait till I’m dead for my kids to appreciate me.” And so she persuades them to eulogize her. The speeches diverge in delivery — eldest daughter Max (Mikey Madison) is meandering and messy; middle daughter Frankie (Hannah Alligood) is cerebral and stoic — yet both are wholly affecting, and enough to make any mother (or daughter of a mother) shed a tear (or 10). —Amy Wilkinson