Ever wanted to watch a new TV show without, you know, committing to it? We’ve all been there: start watching a new series, thinking it looks pretty cool, and next thing you know, you’re nine series in and have no idea why you’re still watching, but too emotionally invested to stop (here’s looking at you, Supernatural). Enter the miniseries. Don’t be put off by the ‘mini’ aspect; as we’ve so often been told, just because it’s smaller, doesn’t mean it won’t leave you feeling satisfied. In fact, miniseries tend to be of higher quality than their lengthier counterparts, most likely because the creators of the show have a definite end to work towards and there’s little time for ‘filler’ episodes. The following list offers up some recommendations of where to start.

Generation Kill

Based off the memoirs of a Rolling Stone journalist embedded in an elite Recon squad of the US Marines during the invasion of Iraq, HBO’s Generation Kill is one of the best portrayals of modern warfare there is. It presents the reality of Operation Iraqi Freedom, unvarnished and unprejudiced: long stretches of boredom punctuated by moments of high intensity fighting; the inexperience of the new recruits, the first generation of Americans brought up in a lifetime of peace to be thrown into the harsh reality of war; and the incompetence of the commanders in charge of ‘liberating a country’. With only seven episodes, Generation Kill is near flawless in its execution. This is war, unfiltered: the dialogue is razor sharp, hilarious and brutal by parts. The show keeps the heavy useage of military slang so as to seem authentic as possible (examples include ‘Victor’ for vehicle, ‘Oscar Mike’ for ‘on the move’, as well as some that are less savoury - we’ll leave ‘Combat Jack’ to your imagination) which means it may take one or two episodes to fully understand what’s going on, but a little patience will soon pay off. Most of the series is seen through one ‘Humvee,’ the light armoured jeep in which the Marines travel. Journalist Evan Wright (known only to the soldiers as ‘Rolling Stone’) is placed to observe the men in a Humvee led by Sgt. Brad ‘Iceman’ Colbert, played by Alexander Skarsgard, a well-respected soldier with serious reservations about the capabilities of his superiors. His second in command, Ray Person, provides much of the series’ humour as the sarcastic, hyperactive, Avril Lavigne singing driver of the jeep. One of the best yet surreal characters, ‘Fruity’ Rudy Reyes, is actually played by his real-life Marine counterpart. The series is often shocking in its honesty. Many events which, while watching, I assumed must have been fictionalised are taken directly from the book, frequently grimly reflecting the events in Iraq. Neither glorifying nor condemning the acts of the soldiers it follows, Generation Kill should be required viewing for anyone wanting an insight into the chaotic nature of wars in the last ten years.

Pride and Prejudice

The miniseries that gave your mum her sort-of-disturbing obsession with Colin Firth, BBC’s Pride and Prejudice is a far better adaptation of Jane Austen’s novel than the more recent film starring Keira Knightley. Widely praised by critics and audiences alike, the series sought to remain faithful to its source material while making it accessible for non-Austen fans, ramping up the sexual tension between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, and adding scenes with the Bennet sisters. The series’ six episodes follow the antics of the Bennet family, the mother of whom is determined to find husbands for her five daughters lest they be left poor and shunned by society. While eldest daughter Jane is swept off her feet by the charming Mr. Bingley, her cynical sister Elizabeth is left outraged by the manners of his friend, the surly Mr. Darcy, who declares her ‘tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me’. Although their meeting is far from love at first sight, she slowly comes to realise that there’s more to Darcy than meets the eye. Meanwhile, youngest sister Lydia gets herself into trouble and risks bringing disgrace on the family when she gets involved with Officer George Wickham. The series catapulted Colin Firth - a previously unknown actor - into fame, allowing him to go on to play the exact same character in every Richard Curtis film ever made. The iconic scene where he emerges soaked from swimming in a lake was voted one of the most unforgettable scenes in British television and set alight the passions of middle-aged women everywhere in what was after all a happier, more innocent, pre-Fifty Shades of Grey time. The series also inspired Helen Fielding to write the Bridget Jones novels, featuring its own Mr Darcy (also played by Colin Firth in the film adaptations). Quintessentially English, Pride and Prejudice has all the hallmarks of a great period drama, including scandalous elopements, repressed emotions, and top hats. Nonetheless, its themes of class, status and romance remain relevant for today’s audiences, no doubt explaining why the book is still so popular. Pride and Prejudice may not offer many surprises, but it is one of the better adaptations of Austen’s novel, bringing wit and heart to the story. Austen fans and novices alike will enjoy.

The Hollow Crown

The BBC’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s Henriad tetralogy of Richard II, both parts of Henry IV, and Henry V is a star-studded affair, featuring what seems like every British actor to have been on TV in the past five years. It’s ambitious in scope - the four episodes follow the reign of three different kings - but an incredibly engaging work, mainly thanks to the brilliant performances of those involved. ‘What makes a good king?’ is the question central to the series. The Hollow Crown is a story about power: the struggle to gain it, how to keep it, and what it means to lose it. Ben Wishaw plays a rather weedy Richard II, scrabbling to keep hold of the throne against his challenger Henry Bolingbrooke. With his ostentatious air and tendency to play the martyr (the King is literally dressed like Jesus in almost every scene), it’s hard at first to find sympathy for Richard, but thanks to Wishaw’s sensitive and complex portrayal, it’s difficult not to feel sorry for him as he is betrayed one by one by those closest to him. Next up are the Henrys, with Bolingbrooke now on the throne as Henry IV, played by Jeremy Irons. Having learnt his lesson from the predecessor he overthrew, the new king is a powerful, authoritative figure, showing no mercy to those he sees as his enemies. He is troubled most of all, however, by his son: Prince Hal, who is probably what passed for a ‘lad’ in Elizabethan times, and prefers to spend his days drinking and whoring rather than facing up to his princely duties. (The first part of Henry IV is worth watching if only to see Hiddleston’s impression of Jeremy Irons as his on-screen father, one of the funniest moments of the series.) Encouraged by his friend Falstaff, Hal shows no appreciation for his role-in-waiting, an endless source of worry for his father. Henry IV and Henry V can be seen as a coming-of-age story for Hal, as he learns what it means to be a good King. It’s a role than Hiddleston, already familiar with playing royalty from his most famous portrayal of Loki in Marvel’s Thor films, is arguably born to play: nailing every emotion as he follows the character’s arc from an immature, selfish youth, through to the death of his father the King, and finally as leader and warrior in Henry V, where the famous, “Once more unto the Breach, dear friends,” speech is delivered with fury and passion. The Hollow Crown is Shakespeare at its best and most accessible: every audience can find something to appreciate in its timeless themes.

Band of Brothers

Forget Saving Private Ryan; if you want a realistic depiction of the horrors of World War II, look no further than Band of Brothers. Another near-perfect war miniseries, the series is the story of Easy Company, a regiment of paratroopers in World War II. It follows the company over the whole course of the war, beginning with gruelling training in Georgia and England, through the D-Day invasion at Normandy, a freezing winter spent in the forests of Belgium during the Battle of the Bulge, right through to the end of the war. Produced by Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks, the series aimed for as much as accuracy as possible in its depiction of war: relying heavily on the input of veterans of the war, all of the main characters are or were real people, and each episode begins and ends with clips from interviews with them (although not until the very last episode do we find out who each person is). Because each character shares the fate of their real-life counterpart, each death or injury has added weight, blurring the lines between fiction and reality. The penultimate episode, Why We Fight, is probably where the series reaches its emotional peak, in its haunting depiction of a concentration camp. A pre-Homeland Damian Lewis plays Major Winters, the leader of the company for most of the story, whose determination to get his men home provides the anchor for many of the show’s storylines. Most of the episodes are centred around a particular character; with ten episodes in total, the series gives enough time for its audience to feel as if they know the company, increasing the emotional impact of the story. The huge cast also provides a seemingly endless supply of familiar faces: Tom Hardy, Michael Fassbender and James McAvoy can all be spotted in minor roles. It was, at the time, the most expensive miniseries ever produced (exceeded only by its less successful follow-up, The Pacific), and was filmed mostly in England. The high production values can be witnessed in the scene where soldiers parachute out of aeroplanes onto the beaches at Normandy (heart-stoppingly tense, and one of the best scenes of the whole series). Band of Brothers treads a fine line, never teetering over the edge into hero-worship of the men it depicts (heroic no doubt that some of them are), and balancing respect and realism with admirable restraint. Setting the bar for World War II television, Band of Brothers isn’t easy viewing, but important nonetheless.