As seemingly every entertainment website drops its best-of lists to round out the year, you’ll probably notice some similar themes in terms of the television series being applauded. This isn’t actually all that surprising; many of the best programs from the past 12 months have been so evidently superior that any argument is really over what numerical position on said lists they ought to occupy—FX’s Shogun, for example, or Prime Video’s Fallout, or the second season of AMC’s Interview with the Vampire. But maybe now that we’ve all collectively agreed on the best shows of 2024, it’s time to talk about the one that way too many of you have slept on, thanks to its lack of prestige credentials: Hulu’s Rivals.
At first glance, Rivals isn’t what most of us would likely consider serious television. (And despite my personal best efforts, it did not appear in our best-of rankings this year.) Sure, it’s got a blockbuster cast, lavish sets, and a plot involving deep-seated class tensions among a group of ridiculously wealthy elite, but it’s not a show that ever takes itself particularly seriously. After all, the first episode opens with a couple joining the Mile High Club in the bathroom of the Concorde and finishing up just as the jet itself goes supersonic, all while a freshly opened champagne bottle overflows outside. Subtle, it is not.
But in a world bursting with grim procedurals and overly ponderous dramas, too many people have forgotten what was once the key rule of television: At the end of the day, it’s supposed to be fun. Yes, there are important stories to be told in series like FX’s The Bear, HBO’s True Detective: Night Country, and Netflix’s Baby Reindeer, but our current pop cultural landscape has a significant dearth of properties that are just here to have a good time. At one point in the not-so-distant past, so-called “nighttime soaps” like Rivals would have been all over every major network, full of sex and bonkers plot twists, with the sort of characters you would both genuinely love to root for and often love to hate. (Frequently at the same time!) To finally have one back again feels like a breath of fresh air, and while Rivals may not be the year’s best drama, it’s certainly its most entertaining ride.
The show ostensibly revolves around the titular rivalry between bad boy Olympic showjumper turned Tory MP Rupert Campbell-Black (Alex Hassell), a man who is so attractive women repeatedly swoon in his presence, and Lord Tony Baddingham (David Tennant), a literal cigar-chomping comic book villain of a regional TV executive with a deep insecurity about his slightly less than aristocratic upbringing. However, though the story of their battle over the future of a regional U.K. television empire is the narrative linchpin around which most of the series’ story turns, the question of the Corinium network’s fate is also the least interesting thing going on at any given moment. Rivals knows that what we’re tuning in for is everything else—the affairs, the vacation hook-ups, the longing looks, the blackmail, the opulent parties with sky-high shoulder pads and catty, cutting asides. (After all, no matter who “wins”, both men will still be rich, influential, and undoubtedly looking for a new reason to be at each other’s throats as soon as possible.) What we’re all here for, really, is pleasure, and that’s something that Rivals knows an awful lot about.
Yes, it’s a show with a lot of sex. Everyone is literally sleeping with everyone else—spouses, coworkers, mortal enemies, strangers—and generally having a great time doing it. But it is also a story about indulgence, and that holds true for both the residents of Rutshire and the audience watching along at home. Rivals is remarkably self-aware—it’s honest about the many problematic elements at the heart of life in 1980s England, particularly the rampant misogyny faced by its female characters. But the show’s forthright embrace of ‘80s hedonism shades even its most uncomfortably dated attitudes with a vaguely ridiculous sheen, one that allows viewers to see that excess for what it is: absurd. In doing so, the show gives those of us watching at home permission to be equally ridiculous ourselves, and enjoy what’s in front of us without feeling bad about it.
Cooper’s original series of novels is not subtle, and her fictional world of Rutshire is populated with characters that slot into neat boxes, including a womanizing rake (Rupert), a villainous corporatist (Tony), a wide-eyed ingenue (Taggie), a crusading journalist (Declan), a lonely housewife (Lizzie) and lots more. Commendably, Hulu’s adaptation does its best to muddy these waters narratively speaking, fleshing out the bulk of these archetypes into something that feels genuinely three-dimensional—and much more interesting to watch.
From Taggie and Rupert’s surprisingly sweet romance (a rare age-gap relationship handled with genuine care) to Tony’s over-the-top scheming and Cameron’s furious determination to force the male-dominated world of Corinium to take her seriously, each of the series’ dozen or so main characters have compelling arcs of their own—most of which have almost nothing to do with the sex they’re having. The series deftly balances a constantly shifting buffet of relationships and storylines in a way that acknowledges that most of its characters are all fairly awful people. But they’re terrible in ways that are easy to both understand and sympathize with, and they’re all allowed to take part in the show’s glittering buffet of pleasures without judgment.
It’s true—as much as I love it, Rivals is not the best show released in 2024. (Shogun really is that good, even if FX struggled to make it into the massive cultural hit it deserved to be.) But the eight-part Hulu drama—which thankfully has already been renewed for a second season—is the most unabashedly entertaining series that hit our screens this year, the show that’s doing what most others can’t (or simply don’t want to) and having a blast at the same time. Bursting with excess of every variety, from the evident wealth of its characters to the frequent sex they engage in and the excellent assortment of recognizable ‘80s bangers that soundtrack it all, it’s a guilty pleasure series that refuses to feel guilty—and doesn’t want its audience to either. Do yourself a favor, and indulge.
Lacy Baugher Milas is the Books Editor at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter and Bluesky at @LacyMB
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