When it comes to my TV binging habits, I tend to exist in two modes. I either wanna be taken on a scary thrill ride, or on a funny laugh ride. I love suspense shit, and I love comedy shit, and these two seemingly disparate loves manage to coexist together in one of my favorite burgeoning sub-genres of TV: the "comedy thriller."

This kind of show is packed with jokes and levity, to be sure. But it's also packed with heart-pounding moments of darkness. It's the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup of excellent television, a show that is truly not "a comedy that happens to be scary" or "a thriller that happens to be funny," but instead a collision of the best of both worlds. If you're looking for a starter pack of this special TV treat, check out 10 of the best comedy thriller TV shows to binge to your genre-bending heart's content.

Archer

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Image via FX

Created by: Adam Reed

Cast: H. Jon Benjamin, Judy Greer, Amber Nash, Chris Parnell, Adam Reed, Aisha Tyler, Jessica Walter, Lucky Yates

Through countless spy plots that earnestly grip, abrupt season-long time period and genre shifts, and some of the sharpest writing ever unleashed, Archer has and continues to be a powerhouse of thrilling, comedic television. Adam Reed’s creation comes from an obvious love of the spy-thriller genre, and an obvious need to dissect, explore, and absolutely eviscerate every single trope of said genre. H. Jon Benjamin, as the title role, is instantly iconic (this man has so much range just using his speaking voice), and his antiquated, problematically macho, all-American Bond is surrounded by an absolute murderer’s row of voice acting talent, from Aisha Tyler as his partner/on-again-off-again love interest, Jessica Walter as his prickly mother, Chris Parnell as the spy organization’s resident “sad/angry nice boi,” and especially Amber Nash as Pam, the unchecked, unbridled id of the show. The show’s joke-writing can feel a little mean or insensitive for those not ready for their vibes, but the overall arc of “Archer learning, little by little, to be a better person” softens the blow -- and the sterling craft on display will rock you regardless, techniques like “end of one scene begins the next one” worming their way into television’s lexicon as if they’ve always existed. Plus -- some of the spy shit on this show is, like, really suspenseful and intense, especially a great season three two-parter featuring Bryan Cranston.

Barry

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Image via HBO

Created by: Alec Berg, Bill Hader

Cast: Bill Hader, Stephen Root, Sarah Goldberg, Glenn Fleshler, Anthony Carrigan, Henry Winkler

Barry is odd. It smashes the frenetic pacing and protagonist misery of a Breaking Bad with the inside baseball show biz jokes of a Party Down, all lensed and constructed with some of the best and most inventive filmmaking you’ll see on television. It provokes guttural laughter and abject horror, often within the same scene or moment. And above all, it is Pringles television -- once you pop, you simply shall not be able to stop. Bill Hader, in addition to co-creating the program and directing many of its most visually splendorous episodes, stars as the title role, an ex-military hitman who’s having a change of heart about the business of killing. The inciting incident spurring this change? Accidentally walking into an acting class, featuring star pupil Sarah Goldberg and egotistical teacher Henry Winkler -- and falling in love with the business of performing. Can a man who’s done horrible things escape his past through the power of constructive art-making? Can we, as viewers, as humans, forgive him, even as he continues to relapse into the worst crevasses of darkness? These base questions and more are all asked during Barry’s run, often greased by criminal figures like Stephen Root’s problematic father figure and Anthony Carrigan’s oddly cheerful criminal kingpin. And, seriously, the filmmaking is a central star of the show -- beyond the obvious show-offy episodes like season 2’s “ronny/lily,” I love how little things are staged throughout the series, especially a subtle oner in which Goldberg delivers an astonishing monologue on the existential neuroticisms of being a working actor.

Chuck

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Image via NBC

Created by: Josh Schwartz, Chris Fedak

Cast: Zachary Levi, Yvonne Strahovski, Joshua Gomez, Sarah Lancaster, Adam Baldwin, Ryan McPartlin, Mark Christopher Lawrence, Scott Krinsky, Vik Sahay, Julia Ling, Bonita Friedericy

Chuck’s theme song, “Short Skirt/Long Jacket” by Cake, is an aspirational anthem. John McCrea sings about everything he wants in a woman, finishing his list of fantasies with the chorus of “a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket.” It is implied that he does not currently have this girl, but the fantasy sure is fun to groove about. This day-dreamy vantage point (from, it should be said, the point of view of a slightly arrested man-child) is what I find so damn endearing about Chuck, a high-concept spy-comedy about a mild-mannered electronics store worker (Zachary Levi, later lowkey reprising this energy for the big screen in Shazam!) whose brain is accidentally hacked and implanted with tons of CIA and NSA information -- effectively, and inadvertently, turning him into a superspy. And seriously, what person, no matter their job, has never fantasized about becoming a superspy? It makes for instantly relatable episodes, a premise engine simple enough to provide simple thrills, while also taking its time to explore Chuck and the rest of the cast’s character growths and bumps, while also also crafting the hell out of some intense action sequences, too. It’s The Bourne Identity meets The 40-Year-Old Virgin, and it will charm the hell out of you.

Fargo

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Image via FX

Created by: Noah Hawley

Cast: Billy Bob Thornton, Allison Tolman, Colin Hanks, Martin Freeman, Kirsten Dunst, Patrick Wilson, Jesse Plemons, Jean Smart, Ted Danson, Ewan McGregor, Carrie Coon, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Goran Bogdan, David Thewlis

When I began watching season one of Fargo in 2014, I did so with great skepticism. 1996’s Fargo motion picture is my absolute favorite Coen Brothers film, and likely one of my favorite films of all time. Why on earth did we need a television series redundantly running its mouth all over a perfectly closed, tightly constructed story? Well, because Noah Hawley knows to play in certain shared tones, vibes, thematic choices, and feelings while crafting his very own criminally addictive narrative of temptations, redemptions, black hearts, golden consciences, and bubbling violence inherent in every small-town American city. I had an absolute blast watching season one of Fargo, is what I’m trying to say. And in seasons two and three of the series, he created new criminally addictive narratives, effectively turning “the mood of the Coen Brothers” into a new anthology series, and helping turn “prestige anthology series” into a whole “peak TV” mood. Season one features Billy Bob Thornton in a bonkers haircut personifying the actual devil, Martin Freeman as a mild-mannered man tempted by evil, and Allison Tolman and Colin Hanks as kind-hearted cops trying to instill a sense of good in this world. Season two features Jesse Plemons and Kirsten Dunst as a good ol’ couple who accidentally runs over the son of an organized crime syndicate (Kieran Culkin). And season three features Ewan McGregor as not one, but two shady brothers with shady pasts -- not to mention Carrie Coon being dope as heck. If you, like me, love your crime stories with dark senses of humor, unbearable senses of suspense, and grounded senses of reality that nonetheless feel mythic in scope, Fargo will be the most bingeable show you’ll ever watch.

Good Girls

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Image via NBC

Created by: Jenna Bans

Cast: Christina Hendricks, Retta, Mae Whitman, Reno Wilson, Manny Montana, Lidya Jewett, Isaiah Stannard, Matthew Lillard

I’m not entirely sure how this show got made, picked up, and continuously renewed on network freaking television, but I’m glad it did. Good Girls is a slick and sickly crime comedy, eager to roll around in the genre muck, its shinier-than-average aesthetics in fact adding to rather than detracting levels of disturbance. Christina Hendricks, Retta, and Mae Whitman play the ironic title roles, three everyday women trying their best to get by in suburban America despite the casually explicit slow-burn crunch of patriarchal capitalism. At the beginning of the pilot, the three women resort to robbing a grocery store. By the end of the pilot, another crime has already happened -- and as the series rolls on, Hendricks and her crew keep cascading down a Heisenberg-esque criminal staircase, with perverse joy coming from how cathartic (and fun?) it all feels. The show also features a great cast of guest stars having fun in this cleanly grungy world, including Fargo’s Allison Tolman playing way the hell against type and having a blast doing it.

Killing Eve

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Image via BBC America

Created by: Phoebe Waller-Bridge

Cast: Sandra Oh, Jodie Comer, Fiona Shaw, Darren Boyd, Owen McDonnell, Kirby Howell-Baptiste, Sean Delaney, Kim Bodnia, Nina Sosanya, Edward Bluemel, Henry Lloyd-Hughes, Harriet Walter

Sandra Oh is a super-spy named Eve. Jodie Comer is a super-assassin named Villanelle. Eve is supposed to kill Villanelle. Villanelle is supposed to, well, kill Eve. What happens instead is… much more complicated. Killing Eve is twisted, captivating, riveting television, its episodes packing punches both narrative and character-driven. Phoebe Waller-Bridge originally developed the show from Luke Jennings’ novels and ran the first season, but a different showrunner has taken following seasons (Emerald Fennell in season two, Suzanne Heathcote in season three), resulting in an overall arc that’s built from the onset not to become predictable. As Eve and Villanelle chase each other, obsess over each other, and dare I say love each other, the twists, cliffhangers, and excruciating character gut-punches keep on-a-coming. It’s a show made for an autoplay generation -- once one episode ends, you will biologically need the next one to begin.

Medical Police

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Image via Netflix

Created by: Rob Corddry, Krister Johnson, Jonathan Stern, David Wain

Cast: Erinn Hayes, Rob Huebel

There’s not a sillier show on this list -- nay, on television -- than Medical Police. If you’re a fan of the original series this spinned off from, Childrens Hospital, or any of this particular comedy crew’s other joint ventures (i.e. Wet Hot American Summer and its two Netflix spin-off series), you simply must watch this Netflix series. It’s 24 meets Angie Tribeca, a show that paints a coat of transcendently silly gags atop a surprisingly captivating thriller plot involving a global super-virus (which, in our current climate, feels eerily prescient). Rob Huebel and Erinn Hayes (delivering an Emmy-worthy performance) reprise their Childrens Hospital roles as doctors of Brazil’s finest medical facility (yes, the hospital is definitely in Brazil). But when the virus hits the fan, the two must trade their stethoscopes for guns and their medical shoes for spy shoes, as they trot across the globe desperate to find a cure and stop the terrorists responsible. This show makes me cry laughing -- as an acolyte of the Zucker Brothers and Mel Brooks-styled gag-a-second comedy, Medical Police fits the bill and thensome. But it also hits me in the bones from a suspense-level, offering act breaks and cliffhangers more than eager to be as dramatically effective as they are daffy. Medical Police is the smartest silly show there is right now, and it deserves your quarantined time.

Run

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Image via HBO

Created by: Vicky Jones

Cast: Merritt Wever, Domhnall Gleeson

It sure as hell feels like Ruby (Merritt Wever) is living the suburban dream. A loving husband, cute children, trips to Target in her SUV. But when she receives a text message simply saying, in all caps, “RUN,” Ruby responds identically, and then, well, runs. To a train station, to meet Billy (Domhnall Gleeson), her college ex, to travel across America. Why, exactly? Vicky Jones and her writing staff are keen on dangling hints of certain answers while provoking many more questions throughout the episodes, but there does seem to be a much deeper purpose at play, one rife with potential love, definite lust, and nefarious motives in the form of a mysterious woman from Billy’s past (Archie Panjabi). Everyone is running to and from something simultaneously — and it’s a thrill to tag along for the sprint.

Run, like its main characters, has a lot on its mind. The joys of reconnecting with optimistic adolescence, the fears of becoming obsolete in adulthood, the growing worries that you cannot repeat the past, the growing worries that you cannot outrun the future, the wild mood shifts that come with being brazenly, uncontrollably horny (it’s a wildly horny show; you can read me wrestle with that here). It plays with all of these elements in nearly every level of craft, from its peerless character work (especially Wever) to its narrative construction, with excitement, engrossment, and delight. You may not know exactly where you’re heading at first, but Run promises — and plays with how much it wants to fulfill — quite the captivating treasure map along the way.

Search Party

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Image via TBS

Created by: Sarah-Violet Bliss, Charles Rogers, Michael Showalter

Cast: Alia Shawkat, John Reynolds, John Early, Meredith Hagner, Brandon Micheal Hall

At times, Search Party feels like dangerous television. It starts as a savagely funny criticism of entitled millennial culture that happens to use a missing person thriller plot as its narrative engine. Alia Shawkat, while not without her flaws, is our relatively sane protagonist surrounded by the insane, powerful performances from ringers like John Early, Meredith Hagner, and John Reynolds. And the group does their best to try and find their missing “friend” (watch the show to find out why it’s in quotes!) while reckoning with their own social media-addled narcissism and foibles. It’s relentlessly funny, its episodes have a satisfying arc to reach, it’s great! But then, as it moves on -- especially into its second season -- it becomes a different something altogether. Shawkat makes a decision with horrific ramifications, and performs her character’s descent into curdling madness with uncomfortably effective intimacy. Early and Hagner, who at times early in the series feel like (phenomenally hilarious) caricatures, begin to fold into vulnerable struggling human beings. And Brandon Michael Hall, at first designed to be Shawkat’s annoying ex-boyfriend, becomes the closest thing we have to an objective moral center. Search Party searches for laughter in the darkest and most bare impulses of humanity, and comes up with all kinds of incendiary treasure.

Whiskey Cavalier

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Image via ABC

Created by: David Hemingson

Cast: Scott Foley, Lauren Cohan, Ana Ortiz, Tyler James Williams, Vir Das, Josh Hopkins

All hail Whiskey Cavalier, the one-season wonder that was too deliciously, old-fashionedly charming to succeed, but too deliciously, old-fashionedly charming to ignore. Scott Foley and Lauren Cohan crackle (crackle, I say!) with chemistry as an FBI agent and a CIA agent assigned to work together in a new coalition of spies -- despite the fact that they are ex-lovers. Is this a premise that feels kinda familiar? Yep, exactly, that’s why I love this show so much. Whiskey Cavalier’s episodes fit like a warm blanket -- it just happens to be a blanket rife with genuinely thrilling action set pieces and stunt choreography (guided by pilot director, Key & Peele’s maestro of genre Peter Atencio) and prickly romantic sparks a-flying in the best way possible. Cohan and Foley are also surrounded by a game and fun-having cast, eager to play in creator David Hemingson’s sandbox -- and I would like to give a special shout out to Tyler James Williams, who crushes his role as an introverted NSA agent with understated comedic panache. Whiskey Cavalier is edge-of-your-seat television -- the edge of your seat just happens to feel nostalgic and pure in the best way possible.