Little America

More like a series of achingly beautiful short films on a theme than a TV show, this unusual gem is at its best when focusing on the little pains and joys in its subjects' lives. The way that Kubir runs out to greet the FedEx man in a homemade superhero mask; the mingled empathy and shame Marisol feels when the city bus drops her big brother off to wait for work with other day laborers on a street corner -- these feel like deeply authentic, lived experiences because of course they are, but also because the directors are gifted at communicating the humanity of the inspired-by-real-people characters they're portraying.

A different writer (or sometimes a team) and director helms each episode of Little America, and the people behind the cameras are as multicultural as the immigrants in front, and it shows. Iwegbuna, Kubir, Marisol, and the other immigrants in these stories are imperfect people: They can be arrogant, impatient, short-tempered. But they're also people with families they have loving relationships with, complicated immeasurably by the specifics of immigration law and how they arrived in this country. These characters' deep and relatable longing for stability and security in America comes through clearly, as does how hard they work to get it: Watching Marisol's mom load up her car pre-dawn with the vacuums and mops she'll need when cleaning houses all day, we understand exactly how much it's costing this family to remain where they are, forget about getting ahead. By making us feel the weight of these stories and care about the people in them, Little America shines.