The best television series you never watched
It is 1983, Reagan’s second year in the White House. Across the Potomac, in an upscale Virginia suburb, live Elizabeth and Philip Jennings (Keri Russell and Matthew Rhys)—a forty-ish couple with two kids and a travel agency. Other than Elizabeth’s striking beauty, there’s nothing that sets them apart from millions of upwardly-mobile American families.
But appearances deceive. Elizabeth’s real name is Nadezhda. Philip’s is Misha. Both were born in the postwar Soviet Union, recruited as teenagers by the KGB, trained to speak flawless American English, and drilled in espionage.
Twenty years ago they were smuggled into the United States outfitted with new identities and money to buy a home and start a business. Their American-born children, Paige and Henry, have no clue who their parents really are.
But one day, everything changes. In the first episode, the Jennings bring brownies to welcome their new neighbors, the Beemans. Philip and Elizabeth are taken aback to learn that Stan Beeman is an FBI agent whose job is to root out Soviet spies
The Americans follows the Jennings as they juggle covert operations — stealing technology and classified documents, conducting acts of industrial sabotage, infiltrating defense contractors and U.S. government agencies — with the demands of suburban family life. Their undercover missions almost always involve disguises—some LOL-funny, some chilling. The series explores how they navigate American society and how one of them, over time, begins to question whether the United States is really as bad as they were taught to believe.
America is booming, fueled by Reagan’s massive defense spending, while the Soviet Union—the homeland Elizabeth and Philip think of as home —is slowly unraveling. Food shortages, defense spending to try and keep up with Reagan’s weapons shopping spree is bankrupting its treasury, a disastrous war in Afghanistan, and a heavy-handed government quick to imprison or execute people who don’t toe the line, are eroding faith in the Communist Party.
Over six seasons (ten to twelve episodes each), the story tracks the years leading up to the Soviet Union’s collapse. Along the way, viewers meet unforgettable supporting characters: Oleg and Arkady, KGB officers working out of the Soviet embassy; Nina, a KGB operative who falls in love (or does she?) with an unhappily married Stan; Claudia, the Jennings’ hard-core no-nonsense KGB handler; and most memorable of all, Martha, a lonely, naive secretary in Beeman’s office. Believing she’s in love with a man named Clark—Philip, under an assumed identity—Martha is manipulated into planting a surveillance device in her FBI boss’ office. Her storyline is, at times, darkly amusing, but ultimately, it’s deeply tragic.
Another subplot centers around Paige, the Jennings’ teenage daughter. Troubled by her parents’ evasiveness, their lack of extended family, and their unexplained absences, she senses that something is off. Seeking stability, she becomes active in a church youth group. Her atheist parents can’t risk forbidding it outright, lest they stoke her suspicions, so they reluctantly play along with her growing faith and good works, even as it complicates their lives.
For anyone who remembers the 1980s, The Americans is a visual and cultural feast. The home décor, cars, clothes, hairstyles, television shows flickering in the background, and the soundtracks—provided by artists like Phil Collins, Dire Straits, U-2, and Bruce Springsteen among others—are spot-on.
Originally airing on FX from 2013 through 2018, The Americans was nominated for numerous awards and won several, but because it wasn’t on a mainstream broadcast network, it never became a huge hit. Today, however, it is widely recognized as one of the finest television dramas ever made, often mentioned alongside Breaking Bad, Band of Brothers, and The Wire.
My wife and I binge-watched The Americans five or six years ago and agreed it was the best show we had ever seen. This summer, we did it again, and found it even more powerful the second time around.
The series creators knew from the beginning how the story would end. Every line, every subplot builds toward a conclusion that, when it finally arrives, feels both stunning and inevitable.
All six seasons are available on Hulu. From the opening scene, set to Fleetwood Mac’s “Tusk,” you’ll be hooked. And when the final, unforgettable moment arrives, you’ll look back on the journey and realize the hours you spent with The Americans may well have been the most entertaining and memorable hours you ever spent watching TV.
