15 Best Fox TV Shows Of All Time, Ranked

Back in the ’80s, Fox firmly cemented itself as the edgier younger brother of the established Big Three networks: NBC, ABC, and CBS. Since then, Fox has put together its own singular history.

The network had two openings: Its soft launch was in 1986 with the Joan Rivers-hosted “Late Show.” The following year, Fox had its “grand opening” with the debuts of “Married… With Children” and “The Tracey Ullman Show,” comedies that offered levels of vulgarity and irreverence that definitely wouldn’t fly on the Big Three networks at the time.

Here, then, are the 15 best Fox TV shows of all time, ranked. Viewer discretion is sometimes advised.

An ensemble-driven drama that was ahead of its time, made stars of its cast, and continues to tug at the heartstrings of those who watch, “Party of Five” is a simple, emotional drama that reverberates in shows like “Dawson’s Creek” and “This Is Us.”

Created by Christopher Keyser and Amy Lippman, the six-season show stars Matthew Fox, Scott Wolf, Neve Campbell, and Lacey Chabert as siblings whose parents were killed in a drunk driving accident. The fifth member of the party is a baby played by multiple actors over the series.

While many 21st-century Fox shows dive into “controversial issues” headfirst and without much tact, “Party of Five” earns modern-day respect for tackling mental illness, addiction, and LGBT identity exploration with sensitivity and understanding.

A five-season sitcom that occupied a rollicking cornerstone of the renaissance of Black TV comedies in the 1990s, “Martin” gave its title star, Martin Lawrence, ample room to shine.

Lawrence co-created the series alongside John Bowman and Topper Carew, setting the action at a Detroit radio station — beating “Frasier” by a year, to boot. He plays Martin Payne, a fast-talking, wisecracking DJ with a girlfriend, Gina (Tisha Campbell), and an ensemble cast of friends and coworkers to pester.

Lawrence also plays a litany of other characters, including the main character’s mother and, most indelibly, the loudmouthed Sheneneh “Oh No You Didn’t” Jenkins.

In sequences with Sheneneh, and in many of the show’s best, “Martin” brilliantly blurred the lines between traditional narrative sitcom and broadly pitched, borderline-surreal sketch comedy. “Martin” made the form louder, looser, and more vulgar, all for the better.

The compulsively watchable “24” took the action-thriller, cranked up the plot twists, dove headfirst into the post-9/11 cultural warfare, and anchored everything with an irresistible high concept — so irresistible, in fact, that shows like “The Pitt” can’t stay away.

Starring Kiefer Sutherland as the seemingly indestructible agent Jack Bauer, Joel Surnow and Robert Cochran’s nail-biter unfolds in real time, with each episode consisting of an hour in the most stressful day of any human’s life. Sorry, medical staff of “The Pitt,” but you haven’t had a literal cougar stalk you … yet.

The kinds of situations Jack Bauer finds himself in run the gamut from presidential assassinations to terrorist threats to interpersonal betrayals, the kind of stuff you’ve since seen in shows like “Homeland” and “Paradise.” “24” makes these sometimes-contrived machinations sing by sheer force of will, using propulsive filmmaking techniques to pulverize the audience into submission … and we mean that in a good way.

What if Sherlock Holmes was an American doctor played by a beloved British sketch comedy performer? That would be “House,” a compulsively watchable program that helped perfect and reinvent the medical drama.

Part of its reinvention is its focus on character. Hugh Laurie’s Dr. Gregory House is irascible, misanthropic, buck wild rude to his colleagues and patients, and a fascinating figure to center a show around. “House” also has a wonderful ensemble cast played by sensitive performers, especially Robert Sean Leonard as Dr. James Wilson — which sounds a heck of a lot like John Watson — a kindhearted friend to Dr. House who is constantly frustrated by his antics. Cross all of this with some genuinely fascinating cases of the week, and “House” is one doctor you’ll want to make, well, “house” calls.

“New Girl” brought Zooey Deschanel’s adorkable energy to the mainstream cultural consciousness in the 2010s. Deschanel’s Jess is socially awkward, prone to flights of singing, and dresses like a goofy elementary school teacher — probably because she is a goofy elementary school teacher.

But Elizabeth Meriwether’s show and Deschanel’s performance are smarter than a down-the-middle quirky caricature. Where “New Girl” really starts to sing is in its ensemble cast, especially its men. Jake Johnson, Max Greenfield, Lamorne Morris, and Damon Wayans Jr. have palpable chemistry with each other — and in Johnson’s case, with Deschanel in particular. They are silly, loving, frustrating, and full of revealing and contradictory expressions of American masculinity.

A sketch comedy powerhouse that introduced us to jaw-dropping talents like Jim Carrey, David Alan Grier, Jamie Foxx, and the Wayans dynasty, “In Living Color” is a raucous party through and through. And that’s before we mention the Fly Girls, the onstage dancers that included a pre-stardom Jennifer Lopez. “Saturday Night Live” has many qualities, but it has never quite captured the feeling of unvarnished fun the way “In Living Color” pulled off effortlessly.

“In Living Color” is never subtle, much to its benefit. It’s loud, bold, and unapologetically irreverent, making it a purposeful bellwether for the still developing Fox network. It’s also, unlike the white-centered “SNL,” full of Black performers and writers, with Carrey being the exception, not the rule.

Some of the sketches certainly feel problematic under modern eyes, but when a “Living Color” sketch fires on all cylinders, it still feels like an unprecedented magic trick of comedy.

It’s reductive to call “Friends” a whitewashed “Living Single.” Not because it’s inaccurate, but because “Living Single” is, over its five seasons, a better show.

Hot take? Maybe. “Friends” is really great and fun. But “Living Single” is special, a well-observed sitcom with tightly crafted laughs, and a wonderful representation of Black women.

The rich ensemble cast features Kim Coles as a daffy sweetheart, Erika Alexander as a sharp-talking attorney, and Queen Latifah as the central voice of reason, an editor of the fictional magazine Flavor. While their dialogue, shepherded by series creator Yvette Lee Bowser, has the appealing, stylized rat-a-tat of sitcom patter, the actors’ chemistry elevates everything into the realm of relatability.

Young teenager Malcolm (Frankie Muniz) is a literal genius with a high IQ and a photographic memory, and his dysfunctional family seems incapable of supporting him the way he needs. Therefore, Malcolm is always, as the title suggests, in the middle — not just of the birthing order of his siblings, but in between his potential and his roots.

But “Malcolm in the Middle,” created by Linwood Boomer, isn’t your typical dysfunctional family comedy. Previous Fox sensation “Married… With Children” thrived on the out-and-out nastiness of its central family, garnering attention with its edgy audacity. “Malcolm,” conversely, is downright sweet, even when its matriarch (Jane Kaczmarek) is berating its patriarch (Bryan Cranston) for the umpteenth time. Furthermore, there is ample empathy radiating throughout the series, with Malcolm’s to-camera asides almost playing like “Wonder Years”-styled recollections in the present tense.

Speaking of working-class families rendered with oodles of empathy: leave room for “Bob’s Burgers.”

Created by Loren Bouchard, who previously worked on whimsical yet grounded shows like “Home Movies” and “Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist,” “Bob’s Burgers” follows the Belcher family, a tight-knit clan that runs a hamburger stand. The wife and three children of the Belcher family are all, to put it mildly, out of their minds — particularly Kristen Schaal’s Louise, a 9-year-old girl who wears bunny ears and pushes people like her sensitive brother Gene (Eugene Mirman) toward irrational behavior.

That leaves the patriarch, Bob, voiced by the prolific and iconic H. Jon Benjamin. Benjamin’s voice inherently reads as prickly, and Bob is often befuddled by his brood. But thankfully, this does not curdle into snark, derision, or hostility. Instead, Bob and his show have wholesomeness grilled into the dish, making it an atypically heartwarming adult animated comedy.

Like “Malcolm in the Middle,” this 2000s single-camera comedy features its title character speaking directly to the camera; or, as Bernie Mac refers to it, “America.” It also follows a unique family with a sneaky sense of heart that chases the gut-busting belly laughs Mac and series creator Larry Wilmore are after.

“The Bernie Mac Show,” which aired for five seasons, is another quietly progressive show for Black representation in the media. Mac plays a version of himself who, along with his wife Wanda (Kellita Smith), takes in his sister’s children after she checks into rehab.

These children catalyze Mac into action, revealing both his impatience and love as a parental figure. Bernie loves to threaten the kids when they’re not acting right and threads the needle between endearing relatability and irrational instability. But his wholesome inclinations always win out in the end, making for a program that’s holistically satisfying.

How did Matt Groening follow up on creating one of the greatest animated shows of all time? By co-creating another one of the greatest animated shows of all time.

The minds behind “The Simpsons” also gave us “Futurama,” a far-future science fiction comedy with ample imagination, gut-busting jokes, and a startling level of fidelity in its logic. “Futurama” has since had revival seasons on Comedy Central and Hulu, but for the purpose of this list, we’re solely examining the episodes that aired on Fox from 1999 through 2003. Some might argue that the provisional 2003 series finale, “The Devil’s Hands Are Idle Playthings,” should’ve been the permanent series finale to avoid the diminishing returns of the revivals.

From time-travel freakouts like “Roswell That Ends Well” to emotional knockouts like “Jurassic Bark,” the early years of “Futurama” are an explosion of creativity — an essential run of episodes for animation fans.

“King of the Hill” stands out by bucking the usual trends of animation, adult or otherwise. It’s not visually inventive, nor are its jokes impossible to render in live action. Instead, it’s laconic, slow, realistic, and even mundane — all to its great benefit.

The 13-season show (again, for this list, we’re ignoring the revival season on Hulu) comes from the dynamic duo of Greg Daniels and Mike Judge, with Judge playing Hank Hill, one of the great TV characters of all time. You could describe Hank as “conservative,” though he possesses none of the qualities we usually ascribe to such characters — like, say, Stan Smith from “American Dad,” a much more satirical take.

Hank is merely comfortable with the smallness of his world and has difficulties with change. Yet when change arrives to Hank, in ways big and small, he ultimately finds his way around to a sense of understanding.

Not everyone is a fan of the Netflix revival seasons of “Arrested Development.” That’s okay — we’re here to talk about the three Fox seasons of “Arrested Development,” which are perfect, influential comedy television. They’re often imitated, but there is still nothing quite as immaculately constructed as Mitchell Hurwitz’s 2003 through 2006 run of episodes.

These episodes are dense affairs, packed to the gills with jokes that use every part of the form to elicit belly laughs. The show tells jokes through editing, through voiceover (thanks to Ron Howard), through callbacks and flash forwards, and through good old-fashioned comedic acting from a terrific ensemble.

While it never quite broke through to mainstream success while on the air, the show took advantage of its era, when DVD box sets were at their peak, to reward multiple viewings and obsessive fans.

The truth is out there, and the truth is actually pretty simple: “The X-Files” is one of the best Fox shows, one of the best science fiction shows, and often, one of the best horror shows.

“The X-Files” is, at its core, a mismatched buddy cop show starring David Duchovny as a true believer in the supernatural and Gillian Anderson as a skeptic. But these performers take this dynamic and elevate it toward the sublime with their impeccable, strange chemistry.

The episodes alternate between cases of the week and serialized, mythology-building affairs. While the mythology episodes are enigmatic and intriguing, especially any involving the Cigarette Smoking Man (William B. Davis), “The X-Files” stays memorable largely because of its self-contained episodes — works of bold experimentation, flavor, and audacity.

“The Simpsons,” on the air since 1989, is likely the reason Fox has staying power as a network. It solidified the station as a voice for the iconoclastic and radical, pushed the frontline of an adult animation revival that Fox still centers its Sunday nights around, and cemented itself as a cornerstone of American culture. It’s not just the greatest Fox TV show; it’s one of the greatest TV shows of all time.

The foundation is simple: a suburban, middle-class family deals with domestic issues. From that point on, creator Matt Groening and his ginormous crew of collaborators (including icons like James L. Brooks and Conan O’Brien) have gone to the moon and back (at least once literally, in 1994’s “Deep Space Homer”).

“The Simpsons” is just as comfortable presenting grounded, heartfelt stories with tearjerking emotional cores as it is flirting with the absurd and fantastical. And every Halloween, it throws any sense of continuity out the window, flinging its beloved characters into grotesque short stories of surprising violence.

It’s an institution, “The Simpsons,” one that built the Fox network and keeps its lights on to this day, all thanks to its immense nuclear power.