I need to confess something.
I have a guilty pleasure. The kind where I’ve lost entire rainy weekends. Where I’ve stayed up until midnight on a school night muttering “just one more.” Where I’ve actually learned to operate a VPN and hack a Firestick so it thinks I live in somewhere other than South Carolina.
You’re probably imagining reality TV or rom-coms or those dating shows where people get engaged after knowing each other for 10 minutes.
Nope.
My guilty pleasure is complex, intelligent mysteries from other countries.
I know. Lock me up.
How It Started
It’s been about fifteen years since my husband and I could sit through most American entertainment without wanting to throw things at the screen.
It started with movies—when we realized we’d seen the same superhero origin story seventeen times and Hollywood had apparently given up on original ideas entirely. And there’s actual research backing this up: 41 of the top 50 highest-grossing films of all time are now sequels, remakes, or reboots. Studios stopped making mid-budget films (where original adult stories lived) because they’re “too risky,” and now it’s all $200 million tentpole franchises with guaranteed audiences or nothing.
We tried finding quality American TV shows instead. We’d hear about some new series everyone was raving about, settle in with high hopes, and… five minutes later we’d look at each other with that “are we really doing this?” look.
The dialogue felt like it was written by a fifteen-year-old who’d never had a real conversation. The emotions were cranked up to eleven for no reason. The plot twists were visible from space. We couldn’t do it.
Sure, there have been brilliant exceptions here and there (Ozark, Breaking Bad, Your Honor). But they’re rare. Really rare. And they seem to be getting rarer.
So we started looking elsewhere.
The Rabbit Hole
Now? We’re DEEP in it. British crime dramas. Nordic noir. Icelandic mysteries. Scottish procedurals. Australian thrillers. If it’s got subtitles or an accent I can barely understand, I’m probably watching it.
Broadchurch. Unforgotten. Bordertown. Blue Lights. Adolescence.
And here’s the amazing thing—most of these shows cost a fraction of what American networks spend on their productions. British dramas typically run around £1.25-3 million per episode while American shows routinely hit $5-10 million. Yet somehow, with that much less money, they manage sharper writing, subtler acting, and better cinematography than most American blockbuster movies.
The accents just might be the most fun part of this obsession. Scottish detectives saying “wee bairns” and “didnae, wouldnae, couldnae.” Irish slang I have to replay three times to understand. Australian expressions that make me laugh out loud. It’s melodic — like music. English stretched and shaped in a thousand different ways that make even ordinary dialogue feel more alive. We’ve gotten so deep into it that we’ve started using these colloquialisms in our own lives. “Blimey” when something surprises us. “Tabernac” (courtesy of Canadian French) when we need a good curse word. They just feel better somehow.
What I’m Actually Chasing
I’ve thought a lot about why I’m so obsessed with this. What am I actually getting from spending my evening downtime watching Finnish detectives solve murders?
Turns out I’m far from alone in this. I mean the Brits pump these out like candy for a reason. There’s actual research about why humans get hooked on mysteries, and it makes sense when you think about it. We’re puzzle-solvers by nature. Our brains light up when we’re piecing clues together, following threads, trying to figure it out before the detective does. It’s intellectual stimulation disguised as entertainment.
And there’s something about experiencing danger from the safety of your couch. Psychologists call it “safe fear”—getting that adrenaline hit without any actual risk. We’re basically practicing survival skills while eating snacks in our pajamas.
But for me, it’s even more than that.
It’s getting caught up in characters I actually care about—people who feel real, flawed, complicated. It’s the puzzle of trying to figure out the mystery, following all the complex threads, getting surprised by twists I didn’t see coming. It’s total absorption in a different world that becomes real for a little while. It’s almost like living multiple lives. Being many different people in many different places. Experiencing things I’ll never experience. Feeling things deeply without any of the actual consequences.
And yeah, it’s probably also about the fact that these shows treat me like an educated, intelligent adult who can handle complexity, ambiguity, and stories that don’t wrap everything up in a neat little bow.
To Each Her Own
Look, I’m not here to tell you what to watch. If you love American TV, great. If reality shows make you happy, watch them. Entertainment is entertainment—whatever works for you works.
But here’s what I’ve been wondering: How many other places in life are we settling for the mediocre version just because it’s what’s easily available? Just because everyone else seems fine with it? Just because we haven’t stopped to ask ourselves what we actually want?
I didn’t sit down one day and decide to become a TV snob. I just noticed I wasn’t enjoying what was being offered. I noticed I was watching out of habit, not pleasure. I noticed I was accepting “good enough” when something better existed—I just had to be willing to look for it. And once I found what actually worked for me? The stuff that felt dumbed-down became impossible to tolerate.
This isn’t about television, obviously.
It’s about noticing when you’re going through the motions. When you’re consuming what everyone else consumes because it’s there. When you’ve stopped asking yourself what you actually want because asking feels like too much work.
Maybe you love what you’re watching. Maybe you love your routine, your choices, your life exactly as it is.
But maybe you don’t. Maybe you’re just watching because it’s Tuesday and the TV is on and this is what everyone watches.
I’m not saying you need to hack a Firestick. But maybe it’s worth asking: what would I choose if I weren’t just choosing what’s easy?
The End
So yeah, that’s my guilty criminal pleasure. Scottish detectives with accents so thick I need subtitles. Finnish noir. Quirky Kiwis saying ‘Yis’. British dramas where legal colleagues refer to each other as ‘my learned friend’. And I’m just delighted by the diversity of it all.
I don’t really feel guilty at all. Even if a little hacking is required.
