All 5 Hours of This Apple TV Sci-Fi Series Are a Perfect Weekend Binge From Start to Finish

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Published Mar 7, 2026, 4:33 PM EST

Kelcie Mattson is a Senior Features author at Collider. Based in the Midwest, she also contributes Lists, reviews, and television recaps. A lifelong fan of niche sci-fi, epic fantasy, Final Girl horror, elaborate action, and witty detective fiction, becoming a pop culture devotee was inevitable once the Disney Renaissance, Turner Classic Movies, BBC period dramas, and her local library piqued her imagination.

Rarely seen without a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, Kelcie explores media history (especially older, foreign, and independent films) as much as possible. In her spare time, she enjoys RPG video games, amateur photography, nerding out over music, and attending fan conventions with her Trekkie family.

At this point, Apple TV has more than earned its reputation as the modern hotspot for superb science fiction. The streamer routinely takes chances on high-concept projects with intimidating budgets and, perhaps more impressively, lets their original series accumulate loyal audiences over time. Some of their cerebral-minded creations remain devoutly somber while others toss in light-hearted moments. Either way, the platform's breakout sci-fi titles have all been straightforward dramas — until 2025's Murderbot, that is.

An eccentric comedy first and foremost, Murderbot marks a refreshing change of pace for Apple TV as well as another example of their willingness to support creative risks. For one, although showrunners Chris and Paul Weitz take their cues from Martha Wells' The Murderbot Diaries, the bestselling novella collection doesn't wield mainstream name recognition. What's more, none other than Alexander Skarsgård steps into the protagonist's shoes, an actor who earned considerable fame for his dramatic work (more on that later). Even though Murderbot hasn't yet exploded into an Apple TV heavy-hitter, it's endearing enough to charm the galaxy's most cynical heart — and pack a gracefully poignant punch.

What Is 'Murderbot' About?

Humans are cruel, irritating, or disgusting. Just ask Murderbot (Skarsgård), one of many sentient cyborgs created in a factory, rented to clients for an exorbitant bodyguard (or Security Unit) fee, and programmed to obey said clients' every humiliating whim. Murderbot discreetly hacks its way to forbidden free will, but since any escape attempt will likely end with its gruesome death, it chooses self-preservation over living up to its ominous name. Instead, Murderbot wiles away its days playing the role of obedient tool and lessens its depression by marathoning its favorite TV shows. Despite that preamble, Murderbot's current batch of clients, a clueless group of "hippie scientists" who believe every being deserves respect, might actually be worth protecting with its life — as long as this emotionally constipated SecUnit can overcome its impending existential crisis.

It's hard to go wrong with a premise this winsome, yet the creators' go-for-broke gumption successfully translates Murderbot's from page to screen. Everything depends upon the right stylistic touch, and their balance between restraint — wry, off-beat sarcasm — and overt extravagance — as camp as camp can be — achieves a cohesive flow. Murderbot pulls its humor from agonizingly awkward conversations, embarrassing scenarios any introvert can relate to, and Murderbot-the-character's perfectly timed, profoundly exasperated narration. The exquisite show-within-a-show recurring gag surrounding Murderbot's beloved Star Trek-inspired soap, The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon, must be seen to be believed. The series doesn't solely rely upon jokes without supportive infrastructure, either; the sharp worldbuilding simultaneously retains Wells' core themes and crafts an accessible experience for newcomers.

Alexander Skarsgård Leads 'Murderbot's Phenomenal Cast

A cast capable of shifting between slapstick, understated, and earnest holds the other key to success. Skarsgård flexes his substantially underutilized comedic chops, proving himself a master of precise timing and deadpan-adjacent intonations that convey just enough irritation, apathy, and barely suppressed misery. Simultaneously, Skarsgård slides in remarkably vulnerable, yet never overwrought, moments whenever Murderbot's wounds are reluctantly exposed. One can't say humanity shines through, but disarming, relatable empathy does; an introverted and socially anxious cyborg, who despises small talk almost as much as it does the continual violations of its autonomy, emerges as a whole person overwhelmed by its capacity for fear, anger, defiance, gentleness, and guilt.

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By Collier Jennings

While the gleefully synergetic supporting cast contains no weak links, Ayda Mensah (Noma Dumezweni) and Gurathin (David Dastmalchian) are above-and-beyond standouts for their more grounded take on the humorous beats and their strikingly raw nuance. Their contrasting characteristics — warmth versus hostility, open-hearted leadership versus standoffish self-hatred — make them fully realized contributors and ideal extremes to place on either side of Murderbot's own internal dichotomy.

For all that Murderbot self-identifies as unapologetically joyful, its flexible tone pivots whenever the text's layers require. Explicit currents of trauma, PTSD, grief, loneliness, identity dysphoria, and the effects of bigoted dehumanization inform every character. Such experiences seem destined to remain inevitably universal emotions (more's the pity), even for a protagonist who vehemently rejects self-identifying as anything except half-organic, half-mechanical. Murderbot's overwhelming feelings — and they are visceral — manifest through neurodivergent, agender, and asexual-coding behavior, and without falling into the exhausting trope of presenting Murderbot as either a pitiable anomaly or an outcast who envies "normality."

If anything, Murderbot flips those machine-adjacent traditions on their head. Our heroism-averse main character harbors zero aspirations of becoming more human. The fact that it eventually (spoiler!) cares about its found family is because their guilelessly enthusiastic virtues establish them as exceptions to its long-standing "people are loathsome" rule. Everyone needs a tiny-but-mighty community defined by acceptance, celebration, and compassion — especially an antisocial cyborg. With 10 half-hour episodes, a second season in the works, and moments that will sneakily steal your heart, Murderbot is a triumphant new comfort-watch for the ages.