14 Shows Like Schitt's Creek You Need To See

There's nothing more satisfying than watching a genuinely funny, warm-hearted sitcom find an audience and, more importantly, be given time to develop a niche following instead of being cancelled immediately. "Schitt's Creek" was an unexpected hit, with each season introducing more and more people to the show who would quickly become diehard fans. The journey of the privileged Roses from comically out-of-touch one-percenters to a loving, supportive, emotionally healthy family was perhaps one of the greatest collective sitcom character arcs in television history. And it would be well-rewarded for its narrative accomplishments: In its final season, "Schitt's Creek" swept the Emmys, taking home seven primetime awards in total, including one for each of its four main actors.

But all good things have to come to an end. After six seasons, at the height of its popularity, the beloved sitcom went off the air for good, leaving a "Schitt's Creek" sized hole in our hearts. Still, while it was a great show, that doesn't mean it's the only great show. There are plenty of others that can help us cope with its absence. Here are a few suggestions.

You know how David and Alexis both flirted with the entertainment industry as children, but were clearly only involved because of Moira's success as an actor? And their mediocrity as performers is just sort of an unspoken reality on the show? That's sort of what "The Other Two" is like. It's a comedy that revolves around the two older siblings, both of whom have aspirations of a career in the performing arts, of a kid who becomes internet famous after making a viral video. 

Suddenly, they're forced to grapple with the fact that their Zoomer brother has achieved a level of success that they will never be capable of, and the uncomfortable truth that every day they get a little older and a little less likely to become a fresh-faced ingénue. Developed by former "Saturday Night Live" head writers Chris Kelly and Sarah Schneider, "The Other Two" is an exploration of bitterness that becomes more nuanced and mature as the show goes on.

Sometimes, it takes hitting rock bottom for a self-absorbed individual to really take stock of where their life went wrong. For the Schitts, that was losing all their money and being forced to move to a small town that they purchased as a joke several years earlier. For Jack in "A.P. Bio," it involves being fired from a prestigious faculty position at Harvard and running back home to Ohio to teach at a local high school. In between classes, where he teaches absolutely nothing even remotely close to the syllabus, he plots revenge on the fellow philosophy professor whom he believes to be the architect of his misfortune, as well as anyone he happens to have a grievance against in any particular week. 

Aside from the delightfully misanthropic lead performance from Glenn Howerton, bringing over some of his Dennis energy from "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia," the real triumph of "A.P. Bio" is the development of the students. Over the course of the series, they've been given the opportunity to flesh out each of their characters and become the eccentric weirdos they were always meant to be.

When you watch "The Righteous Gemstones," you can't help but want the titular family to be brought to their knees the way that the Roses were. But more so, because all the Roses did was commit a little light tax fraud, while the Gemstones conned generations of religious people out of their hard-earned money to build a massive media empire. They represent a Christian dynasty of televangelists, a huge network of churches being passed from father to sons (not daughters, though; of course the daughter is never taken seriously.) 

John Goodman stars as the family patriarch, the one who, despite his advanced age, still wields all the power, especially over his three children, who each desperately crave his approval. It's a comedy, but a dark one. Each character has been brought up incredibly entitled, believing that their position in the church grants them certain privileges that others simply don't have, which excuses some truly despicable behavior. Will that change? It's hard to tell. But certainly after one season, they haven't had their come-to-Jesus moment yet.

If you can manage to walk away from an episode of "Ted Lasso" without a warm, cozy feeling in the pit of your stomach, well, you may just have a big gaping hole where your heart should be. Over the past 30 years or so, we've been trained by network television to respond to cynicism to such an extent that we regard genuine earnestness with a suspicion bordering on hostility. He's hiding something, we think. A person can't actually be as kind-hearted and empathetic as Ted Lasso. And yet there he is.

Jason Sudeikis stars as a well-intentioned but utterly inept American football coach who is brought in by a failing English soccer team on the brink of relegation, despite knowing absolutely nothing about the sport. His expertise is in team-building, more of a therapist than a strategist. It's been fascinating to watch the show use his overwhelming positivity as a cudgel rather than a fine instrument, as Ted clearly leans on his trademark kindness to hide the fact that he's struggling emotionally.

Look, would Moira from "Schitt's Creek" and Deborah Vance from "Hacks" get along? Probably not. You can't put that much diva energy in one room. It would cause an explosion. But how great would it be to be a fly on the wall watching their interactions?

On "Hacks," Deborah Vance (played by the incomparable Jean Smart, in one of her best roles) is a cynical, acerbic stand-up comedian who fought her way to the top with blood, sweat, and tears. And what does she have to show for it? A lackluster Vegas show, a nagging rumor that she burnt down her late ex-husband's house, and a snide comedy writer who doesn't respect her as an artist. Of course, in everyone else's defense, she can be an absolute nightmare to work with, so it's not like she's some helpless victim being chewed up and spit out by life.

"Hacks" is one of the most promising female-driven comedies out there, and it lives and dies on the power of the chemistry between Smart and Hannah Einbinder, a down-on-her-luck writer who represents the future of comedy.

There really are a shocking number of shows out there about dysfunctional wealthy families full of irredeemable people who hate each other, aren't there? We're fascinated by their lives, so we can't help but keep them on television. At the same time, we're resentful enough of their good fortune that we also can't bring ourselves to portray them in a positive light. 

The Roy family on "Succession" represents the pinnacle of wealth in this country, and it posits two concepts that end up becoming a chicken-or-egg situation: First, that being brought up in a family with limitless funds and connections breaks something fundamental inside a person, and that some measure of regard for others is utterly lost in the wake of pure entitlement. And second, that there is no way to succeed within the highest echelon of corporate America without being essentially a shell of a human being. You're either born without a soul or you become corrupted into something misshapen and grotesque along the way.

So that's "Succession," a scathing indictment of the upper classes. But also, you know ... really funny.

With "SCTV," we're going all the way back to the beginning. Because without "SCTV," there's no way that you ever get "Schitt's Creek," to say nothing of the countless careers in comedy that were launched from this humble Canadian sketch comedy show. As you can tell from the picture above, "SCTV," named for the Second City improv group based out of Toronto, had its fair share of household names. You'll see John Candy and Rick Moranis there, for starters. But direct your attention to the furthest on the left, and you'll find good old Eugene Levy and Catherine O'Hara. The two have been acting together since the mid-1970s, and undoubtedly they began honing their incomparable chemistry right here. 

For a long time, it was difficult to find "SCTV" available to watch. Because they pretty much used whatever background music they wanted without bothering to get the rights to the songs, it would be quite expensive to release the original shows now. Luckily, however, most of "SCTV" has finally earned a DVD release, so the unique brand of humor it was known for lives on.

So much of putting together an ensemble cast is guesswork. You can try to gauge who has chemistry and what you think audiences are going to respond to, but you never really know until you throw the actors together, knowing it's very likely that the whole enterprise may ultimately fall on its face. In a way, that's what makes it so special when a group of actors work so well together that you actually get to watch their on-screen relationships blossom in real time. For the roommates in "New Girl," that friendship (and sometimes more-than-friendship) is an essential part of what made the show so successful.

After being cheated on by her long-term boyfriend, the perpetually sunny Jessica Day (Zooey Deschanel) ends up needing a new place to live, and she reluctantly moves into a loft with a trio of boys she doesn't actually know. At first, they don't get along. Her chipper attitude gets on their nerves, and she feels left out of their male bonding. But slowly, they begin to develop a rapport with one another, and they eventually become like one big, very eccentric family.

Speaking of friends that can become like family, let's talk about "Community" and the tight-knit bonds formed over a Spanish class study group at a local community college. Initially centered around Joel McHale as the lead, a smarmy yet charismatic lawyer who is forced to return to college when it is discovered that he falsified his academic records, the show quickly evolved into an ensemble comedy. 

Each of the main characters developed a unique dynamic with their fellow students, and "Community" was never afraid to follow any of them into the weeds in subplots that grew increasingly more nonsensical as the series went on. It's a testament to the strength of their performances that, despite some of the production issues that plagued the show (showrunner Dan Harmon being fired only to return later, and actor Chevy Chase ducking out before the end of season 4 in a wave of controversy), the central cast still shines until the very end.

Before Annie Murphy landed the role of Alexis in "Schitt's Creek," she was considering leaving the business entirely. But then, fate intervened. Which is good news for comedy audiences, because if she stopped acting, not only would they have never experienced her now famous, "Ew, David!" exclamation, but there would be no "Kevin Can F**k Himself." 

Based on sitcoms where an obnoxious manchild is explicably married to a gorgeous woman who is depicted as doing nothing but nag him all day, "Kevin Can F**k Himself" is a self-aware comedy that centers the experiences of the long-suffering wife. Scenes where Allison McRoberts (Annie Murphy) is alongside her husband Kevin (Eric Peterson) are played like a traditional sitcom: bright studio lighting, a multi-camera set-up, and a laugh track. But the second she's alone, it switches to a more muted aesthetic, emphasizing the darkness of her reality. So, she does what any sitcom wife really should do, and plots to murder her husband. You know, like on "I Love Lucy."

Even when the members of the Rose family spit insults at one another, there's an overwhelming sense of loyalty that you can feel, an effort being made to keep the family together against all odds. There's a similar, if much more hardscrabble and dysfunctional, attitude amongst the Gallaghers of "Shameless." The children of an alcoholic father and an absent mother in working-class Chicago are left more or less to their own devices, essentially raising each other. 

The patriarch of the Gallagher family, Frank Gallagher (William H. Macy), is often present, although that isn't always a good thing given his propensity to sabotage any effort to improve their lot in life. It's equal parts depressing and inspiring to watch the kids band together to make ends meet, creating lives for themselves despite the various hardships that they face over the course of the series' 11 seasons.

If you're chasing the positivity of "Schitt's Creek," "The Good Place" may be a good way to get your next fix. Even as it grapples with massive philosophical questions, it's so overwhelmingly pleasant that viewers can't help but be charmed. When Eleanor Shellstrop, a self-proclaimed garbage person played by Kristen Bell, finds herself unceremoniously dead, she receives a warm welcome into a heaven-adjacent afterlife. The only problem? They've got the wrong Eleanor Shellstrop, and if she wants to avoid being thrown into the "Bad Place," no one can know that she's actually terrible. Her only hope is an anxiety-ridden ethics professor (William Jackson Harper), who agrees to help her learn how to be a better person. 

That's where "The Good Place" begins, anyway; the show features more twists and turns than any network sitcom in recent memory, and it would be spoiling things to say more. But at any rate, "The Good Place" somehow manages to blend deep philosophical musings with a quirky sense of humor that, combined, make it one of the most emotionally satisfying shows on television.

You know how on "Schitt's Creek," the rich family experiences a fall from grace and are humbled by their experiences, learning about the value of family and hard work? Yeah, that's not what happens on "Arrested Development." Sure, the Bluths' family business has some serious legal issues that would, in theory, require each member to tighten their purse strings and cut back on their lavish lifestyles. But the coup of "Arrested Development" is that they just ... don't. 

No one learns anything. No one grows as a person. They're all just the same dysfunctional, deeply broken people they've always been, and for the most part, they're pretty much fine with that. Change is hard, you know. You have to make yourself emotionally vulnerable. Much safer to dig your heels in and double down on being awful. The ensemble cast of "Arrested Development" is a therapist's dream, each member of the family containing a cornucopia of deep-seated issues just waiting to be unpacked.

If the snarky quipping between David and Alexis, or David and Stevie, or David and anyone, really, is your favorite part of "Schitt's Creek," you should absolutely be watching "Difficult People" on Hulu. It stars Billy Eichner and Julie Klausner as two struggling comedians in New York City who spend their lives walking around the city in search of something or someone to make fun of. They're essentially the younger, human versions of Statler and Waldorf, the two old guys who sit in the balcony on "The Muppet Show," and whose only pleasure in life came from spewing delicious hatred at everything they saw. 

"Difficult People" has some serious "Seinfeld" vibes. The things that they choose to be annoyed by are comically petty. But it also brings a distinctly 21st century sense of humor to the proceedings, frequently verging on absurdist comedy. Although it only ran for three seasons on Hulu before being unceremoniously cancelled, there's no shortage of snarky content to keep more mean-spirited "Schitt's Creek" fans entertained.