It was just three years ago when Bela Bajaria revealed the internal label for Netflix’s programming ideal, the gourmet cheeseburger. Evoking populist fare with a garnish of prestige, it seemed like the only dining-related descriptor the TV industry would ever need. But there’s a new moniker on the rise, which I learned when a screenwriter friend recently shared their concerns about a project never getting out of development. The rationale? “Oh, they’re only buying white wine thrillers.”
This trio of words is so evocative that it barely needs a definition. Let’s establish one, just to be safe. A white wine thriller can get dark but not too dark. The body count is kept low. A few murders, nothing too graphic. There must be aspirational elements, typically wealthy characters wearing Brunello Cucinelli while emotionally unraveling in Nancy Meyers-worthy kitchens. White wine thrillers are often adaptations of books. And, pivotally, they are centered on female protagonists and marketed with a female audience in mind. The characters may drink white wine. They frequently do. The real implication is that the viewer is drinking it as they watch.
Roots of this label can be traced to Peacock. “It was just after All Her Fault, we were talking about female-led thrillers, and one of the executives called them white wine thrillers,” says Lisa Katz, president of scripted content at NBC and Peacock. “I don’t know what that conjures for you, but I like wine. To me, white wine feels lighter, refreshing, enjoyable. It goes down easy. You don’t feel bad the next day.”
For every person I’ve approached who claims to have never heard the term, there are at least another two who trill with excitement at its mention. And not because the white wine thriller is anything revelatory or new. It’s because there are finally the words to articulate a kind of show we’ve been watching for years. Look back at the female-driven hits of the past decade, and so many fit the bill. Netflix’s adaptation of Elin Hilderbrand’s The Perfect Couple? Quintessential white wine thriller. Hulu’s Nine Perfect Strangers? Big white wine energy. HBO’s The Undoing? Pour another glass of Grüner. In short: If Nicole Kidman is in the mix, keep a corkscrew within arm’s reach. This brings me to Big Little Lies. No series better encapsulates the tenets of the white wine thriller. HBO assembled The Avengers of A-list actresses, put them in stunning homes on the California coast, asked viewers which one killed the shitbag husband played by Alexander Skarsgard, and our cups ran over.
All Her Fault is the latest industry standard for white wine thrillers. The 2025 miniseries, which stars Sarah Snook as a mother unraveling the cashmere mystery of her missing son, is nominated for seven Emmys. It’s a watershed hit for Peacock. Until the recent launch of the Jennifer Garner drama Five Star Weekend, All Her Fault ranked as the most watched original in the streamer’s history. The fact that, in the wake of All Her Fault’s success, Peacock announced in July that it was finally profitable certainly suggests that white wine thrillers are worth the investment.
“It’s such a good phrase because you immediately understand exactly what it means,” says Tessa Coates, the comedian turned showrunner behind Prime Video’s Ride or Die. “But thrillers, when correctly done, are incredibly difficult to pull off. The fact that you enjoy them with a white wine is not a damning thing. White wine makes it clear that we’re here for a bit of fun. If you wanted to be truly damning, you would call it a prosecco thriller. That says, ‘We’re sugar. We’re sweet. We’re silly.’ “
Coates’ series starring Octavia Spencer and Hannah Waddingham skews too comedy and too action to satisfy the white wine criteria, the most comedic-skewing example of the genre likely being Kaley Cuoco’s The Flight Attendant, but Ride or Die is part of a wave of female-fronted hits setting the summer TV narrative. Apple TV has the Anya Taylor-Joy-fronted Lucky, which is said to skew too male to be a white wine. The aforementioned Five Star Weekend is deliberately short on thrills (“It’s possibly more of a rosé,” jokes Katz). And then there’s Furious, on Hulu, a red wine thriller.
Red wine thrillers check many of the same boxes as their sauvignon blanc counterparts. The biggest differences are higher body counts and a bit of grime where you’d normally find the aspiration. Picture Amy Adams in Sharp Objects. Her alcoholic character may have been quaffing vodka from Evian bottles, but that was a red wine thriller all the way. A red wine thriller demands a stronger constitution, a willingness to wake up the next morning with some lingering effects. Those watching Furious — Liz Meriwether and Emmy Rossum’s cat-and-mouse thriller about an Epstein-esque victim taking out her rapists one by one — know the series is not so easy to shake.
“A red wine thriller stains your teeth, it’s tannic,” one producer tells me, noting that white wine thrillers are in higher demand but that some buyers have developed a taste for red. “Peacock and Hulu are definitely looking for white wine thrillers. Netflix and HBO Max might skew more red. And Paramount has absolutely no idea what it wants.”
Paramount appears to be, as a recent THR report detailed, finally turning its attention to women after so many years relying on the work of Taylor Sheridan and his abundant testosterone. All this serves as a reminder that programming for or about women is still spoken of in terms that would almost never be used for men. Male-skewing series don’t suffer such labels, as much as I’d argue for Shane Gillis’ Tires being dubbed a Kirkland Signature comedy. Calling something a white wine thriller could be interpreted as pejorative, if not sexist.
“Looking at these female-fronted shows that are doing so well, they’re all different,” says Larry Salz, an agent and partner at UTA. “I think the danger of boxing them in is the notion of a network going, ‘Well, we already have our female thriller.’ “
Taxonomies, even cheeky ones, can also be helpful. In a marketplace so often defined by confusion, calling something a white wine thriller offers a rare bit of clarity for all parties. “People want to categorize because people are always trying to figure out what audiences want,” says Katz. “What I’ve learned is that you never know what they want. So the only way to approach this is to make something entertaining, something well-executed that will connect no matter the genre.”
This story appeared in the Aug. 12 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.
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