The Best TV Characters Of The Last Decade

One of the nicest parts about following a long-running TV show is getting to see your favorite characters grow and change almost in real time, going from an interesting face to a fully fleshed-out person. And the 2010s were full of brilliant, well-developed television characters who evolved over the course of a decade. We're talking lawyers, politicians, and criminal investigators, all of whom earned their place in the pantheon of television greats.

So today, we're going to take a look at some of these figures who entertained us over the past ten years. They appeared in shows ranging from comedies and dramas to musicals and animated series, but no matter the genre, these fictional people felt like real human beings, and while some of them weren't exactly pleasant individuals, they were always fascinating to watch. Whether they were scene-stealing members of an ensemble or protagonists who surprised us with glimpses into their humanity, these were the very best TV characters of the last decade.

There's an unfortunate bias to the types of characters that are typically allowed to be on television as major characters. If you need a hint as to what those characters have in common, just think of the cast of Friends. However, Ernie Fontaine (played with beautiful humanity by Brent Jennings) doesn't fit the typical image of a television character. He's black, in his late 50s, and rocks a noticeable beer belly. He's barely hanging on to his living situation, working as a plumbing salesman who can hardly pay his rent month to month. He's in love with a married woman — who loves him back, sort of, in her own way — and is willing to sneak around her muscled husband if it means the occasional afternoon alone with her. He's also emotional and bitter, almost insulted by the youthful energy of his young ward, Bud (Wyatt Russell).

As Brent Jennings described Ernie in a Q&A, "He's feeling like the window is closing shut, and if he doesn't do something, his life will just be a life where no one ever knew that his feet walked on the planet." It's incredibly rare for a television show to follow a character that feels genuinely as if his life has passed him by. Ernie's not in his mid-20s following his dream in New York. He's scraping by as a middle-aged plumbing salesman in Long Beach. That specificity of experience lets the audience relate to Ernie like no other character around.

The elevator pitch for Barry — a hitman accidentally takes an acting class and decides to follow acting as a career instead — doesn't seem to be all that original or innovative on first glance. The balance between a seedy underworld and otherwise mundane problems has been covered in plenty of other media before. However, Barry proved himself to be an utterly unique character in an otherwise packed field. Played by Bill Hader, Barry is a hitman more out of inertia and natural talent than any particular interest. Some people are naturally good at sports, some people have a talent for writing, and Barry is just good at killing people. Throw in an incredibly manipulative father figure named Fuches, played by Stephen Root, and it's a wonder that Barry's even got any emotions left when we meet him in the pilot.

In fact, he barely does, and it's exactly that Terminator-esque roboticism of his that makes him want to act. Barry wants to be like his friends in the acting class, nearly all of whom are obsessed with "making it" in Hollywood, but he just can't bridge the gap. When he tries to relate to them, it's usually around the same time that he has to go murder a mobster, which doesn't exactly help things. There's really nothing as quintessentially true to the LA experience as feeling detached and adrift from your friends because of disparate life experiences. That's relatable even if you haven't worked as a secret assassin for the criminal underworld.

While it should be obvious, reality television stars aren't just being themselves on television. They're playing a character. They're exaggerating certain qualities that are then even more exaggerated through the use of careful editing. So, with that, Nathan Fielder's character in Nathan for You is inarguably a character ... and arguably one of the best characters of the decade. Fielder's stated aim in the show is to help struggling small business owners become more successful through the use of his unorthodox ideas. What actually happens in practice is that Fielder suggests something so insane that most business owners' concerns are steamrolled by the presence of the video cameras and Fielder's patient stare while he waits for them to acquiesce.

That patience makes Fielder a truly unique presence to watch on screen. As childhood friend Seth Rogen remarked to Rolling Stone about Fielder, "More than almost any performer I've ever seen, he is willing to just sit there and do nothing for a long time, to the point that the people he's interacting with are forced to reveal themselves, because the silence is excruciating." It speaks to an incredible interest in other people to let your own presence fade into the background until the other person can't help but show who they are. Even beyond his shared screen time, Nathan for You has revealed new depths to the man once called "the wizard of loneliness." From asking a paid actress to constantly tell him she loves him "for rehearsal purposes" to asking if a woman will consider legally adopting him, Nathan Fielder has become one of the oddest, loneliest, most engrossing characters on television.

Diane was a constant presence on the original Twin Peaks television show as Dale Cooper's (Kyle MacLachlan) trusted confidante, even though she never actually made an appearance. Instead, Dale recorded his musings on a tape recorder, supposedly to send to Diane, his secretary. While fans wondered if she actually existed or if the behavior was yet another of Dale's eccentricities, David Lynch's movie follow-up, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, proved that she existed, even if she once again didn't show up. When Lynch finally had the chance to bring back his groundbreaking television show in 2017, fans knew that Diane would finally have to make an appearance. Perhaps unsurprisingly, longtime Lynch collaborator Laura Dern was tasked with bringing the mysterious character to life.

There was a lot of pressure riding on Dern to create a character that lived up to over two decades of fan theories and ideas, but we needn't have worried. Dern's Diane is electrifying — and not just in the Lynchian sense where it's often used to imply some otherworldly power. Diane is foul-mouthed, stubborn, painfully intelligent, and carrying the deep scars of having been loved by Cooper and hurt by his doppelgänger, Mr. C, in equal measure. Besides a resolution to that painful second season cliffhanger, there was no other quality that was more awaited in Twin Peaks: The Return, and somehow, Diane was absolutely perfect under the weight of all those expectations.

There's no wrong answer to the question of who's your favorite character on Veep. Over the course of seven seasons, Veep had a stronger comedic roster than most other comedy shows combined. It was an all-star series filled with characters and actors that would've been the MVP on any other program. Unfortunately, we're talking about the objective best television characters of the decade, and with that rubric in mind, it's simply inarguable that Selina Meyer (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) was the best of Veep.

Louis-Dreyfus has always been a delight, but she embodied Selina so completely and hilariously that, for nearly the entire series run of Veep, the Emmy award for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Comedy Series basically belonged to her. Episode to episode, Selina could be the straight woman to her incompetent staff's shenanigans or absolutely ruthless with punchlines herself, but the character's comedic potential was nearly limitless either way. She might've been vice president for most of the show, but she's got our vote for president of comedy.

A bad comedic actor can flub a great punchline. A good comedic actor can make a good punchline even better. However, a great comedic actor can turn things that weren't even supposed to be jokes into the funniest moments of the show. As Chidi Anagonye, William Jackson Harper somehow delivers the funniest moments of The Good Place, a series filled with A-list comedic actors. As an anxiety-riddled, strangely-jacked philosophy professor (he heard exercise helped with anxiety and never stopped), Chidi's a wonderfully weird character on the afterlife-focused series. Harper's able to turn small moments like having a stomachache or cocking his head at hearing something crazy into laugh-out-loud moments. With his penchant for paralyzing fear at the idea of causing moral harm to another living thing, Chidi could've easily been a wet blanket of a character. Instead, he's the moral center of a show entirely about finding a moral center.

Atlanta has gotten a massive amount of acclaim for nearly every facet of the show. Director Hiro Murai dazzles with innovative visuals, the writing staff (led by Donald and Stephen Glover) showcases plots and dialogue unlike anything else on television, and Zazie Beetz, Lakeith Stanfield, and Donald Glover are acting circles around nearly everyone else. However, one part of the show that hasn't gotten nearly enough acclaim is the character of Al/Paper Boi, expertly played by Brian Tyree Henry.

As wonderful as Earn (Glover) and Darius (Stanfield) can be in the central trio, Al is a genuinely revolutionary character. Earn's a hustler, trying get a leg up in the world by cashing in on the success of his cousin, and Darius is a deeply odd, worry-free pal who's just enjoying life. They're great characters, to be sure, but Al's concerns run far deeper and more internal than that. Al is on the rise in an industry that demands he trade on his reputation as a gangster while also putting him at risk for that reputation. Unlike Earn, who made it to Princeton, Al can't see a path to success and safety that doesn't involve rap and reputation. But at the same time, the scrutiny and recognition that it brings is deeply, obviously painful. His active indifference to his own success is powerful and nuanced in a way that's rarely seen on television.