The 14 Best TV Series Finales Of All Time

A story is only as good as its ending. This goes for any form of narrative art, of course — film, literature, video games, whatever — but it rings especially true for television. TV shows tell vast, complex stories across multiple episodes and seasons, meaning audiences must invest a significant amount of time and energy in order to fully enjoy them. If a series can't stick the landing, then you can't help but feel a little cheated. All that, for this?

On the other hand, a successful finale accentuates a show's finest qualities, delivering catharsis, heartbreak, and satisfaction in abundance — even if you're left wanting more. It also acts as more than a mere episode, touching on the story's themes, rounding off character arcs, and tying up any loose ends. In short, finales ain't easy. In the right hands, though, they can stand out as the very best episodes in a show's run; in some cases, they're counted among the greatest moments in television history. Need proof? Here are the best TV series finales of all time.

"Last Lunch," the 138th and final episode of Tina Fey's manic comedy series "30 Rock," warrants a place on this list because, unlike so many of its sitcom peers, it remains truly hilarious right up until the very end.

Honestly, what's not to love? You've got Tracy (Tracy Morgan) wreaking havoc on "TGS" in an attempt to stop the final episode from going ahead; Jenna (Jane Krakowski) belting out an all-time performance of a song from "The Rural Juror" that simply must be seen to be believed; Jack (Alec Baldwin) nearly faking his death until he concocts an idea for translucent dishwashers and immediately changes his mind; and Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) in the midst of it all, bounding down the line between heart and humor that many sitcom characters are barely able to walk. The jokes are fresh, the performances as glorious and chaotic as ever — how many other shows can say that after seven seasons?

And then there's the epilogue, which, with its heartwarming-yet-sly glimpses into the future, almost feels like a prescient refutation of the sickly-sweet ending barfed out by "Parks & Recreation" two years later. The episode caps off with the phenomenal reveal that Kenneth (Jack McBrayer) is not only immortal but also destined to one day produce a show about the adventures of Liz Lemon. It's just too good. We'll never forget you, Rural Juror ... and we'll never forget you either, "30 Rock."

In the lead-up to the debut of Season 6 of "BoJack Horseman," fans ran amok with theories about how the equine thespian's story might end. More than a few suggested that BoJack (Will Arnett) would take his own life in the final episode, likely because they believed that a show known for its adult themes and cynical overtones demanded a downright depressing ending. Luckily, they were wrong.

In "Nice While It Lasted," BoJack attends Princess Carolyn's (Amy Sedaris) wedding while on furlough from prison, and the episode essentially grants him a carousel of sweet — or bittersweet — moments with his old friends and acquaintances. Surprisingly, it's Todd (Aaron Paul) who best sums up the meaning of "Nice While It Lasted," and perhaps even "BoJack Horseman" itself: When BoJack explains that the routine of prison could help him break his sobriety record and worries about relapsing afterward, Todd tells him: "After that, you'll beat your record again. Every day, you'll set a new record."

That's what "BoJack Horseman" really says beneath the bleakness and humor: Everyone is flawed, but we can get better if we try. As the jogging baboon notes at the end of Season 2, "Every day it gets a little easier. But you gotta do it every day. That's the hard part." More than anything, "Nice While It Lasted" rates as a superb demonstration of this optimism, which sits right at the heart of this show. Sure, it's a little tough to see — but you'll find it if you look.

Of course, even the staggering audience numbers enjoyed by "Cheers" for its finale pale in comparison to the "M*A*S*H." goodbye. In 1983, the iconic comedy-drama series aired its two-hour finale to an almost unbelievable 106 million people (about 45% of the U.S. population at the time), setting a viewership record for an episodic series that has never been beaten.

"Goodbye, Farewell and Amen" lives up to its reputation too. More a TV movie than an episode, per se, the story follows Hawkeye Pierce (Alan Alda) and the rest of the staff of the 4077th MASH as they celebrate, and cope with, the end of the Korean War. A tragic vein runs through the episode from beginning to end, and at its darkest — the infamous chicken reveal, for example, or, the fate of Charles' (David Ogden Stiers) musicians — it's as affecting as any war movie. But "Goodbye, Farewell and Amen" also serves as a wonderful send-off for the characters we've come to love so much over the previous 11 seasons: that final party, in particular, ties a neat bow on each character's arc and allows each to leave the show in their own meaningful manner. The series closes out on B.J.'s (Mike Farrell) final farewell to Hawkeye, a genuinely beautiful moment that has rightfully gone down in TV legend. A hell of a lot of people saw that goodbye play out all those years ago, and it's hard to imagine many of them — or any of them — were disappointed.

It's a little surprising how "Person to Person," the final episode of the period drama "Mad Men," so generously doles out happy endings. This show compels its characters to wrap up and sell the human experience to consumers, to make a damaged world look pretty. Perhaps it shouldn't be a shock that a story about advertising — about capitalism, in many ways — can be so deeply cynical; hell, even Don Draper (Jon Hamm) himself is, essentially, a living lie. And yet, at first glance, "Person to Person" is anything but.

Despite Betty's (January Jones) terminal cancer diagnosis, Sally (Kiernan Shipka) steps up to take care of her brothers. Peggy (Elisabeth Moss) finds love with Stan (Jay R. Ferguson) and continues to rise through the ranks at McCann Erickson. Roger (John Slattery) accepts his mortality and Joan (Christina Hendricks) establishes her own business. Even Pete Campbell (Vincent Kartheiser) escapes New York, heading out to Wichita with his family in tow. So far, so saccharine, right?

Here's the thing, though: In "Mad Men," even a happy ending is worth selling. The final scene, in which Don comes up with the idea for Coca-Cola's iconic 1971 "Hilltop" ad campaign while shortly after breaking down on a spiritual retreat in California, exemplifies the show's uneasy dichotomy: There's the human experience, and there's the product. The implication that Don took his moment of nirvana and used it to sell soda makes for one of the greatest rug-pulls in TV history, and it's only improved by the hour of television leading up to it. Even as the credits roll, you just can't help but wonder: What have we been sold?

"Twin Peaks" plumbed new depths of surrealist horror for its long-awaited third season, gradually unfolding over 18 bizarre, beautiful, and nightmarish episodes that comprise what was also called "Twin Peak: The Return." 

"Part 18" begins shortly after Agent Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) loses Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee) during his attempt to rescue her from a grisly death in 1989. After a brief trip to the Black Lodge, Cooper appears to journey to another world, where he runs into Carrie, a girl who looks suspiciously like Laura. He decides to take her back to Twin Peaks, but, when they arrive, a stranger answers the door of the Palmers' home; as they leave, a confused Cooper asks: "What year is this?" Then, in the darkness, Laura's mother (Grace Zabriskie) calls her name, "Carrie" lets out the scream to end all screams, and all the lights cut out. And that's the end of "Twin Peaks."

In 1990, David Lynch told a Los Angeles Times reporter that "Twin Peaks" demanded better than an easy resolution. "As soon as a show has a sense of closure," he said, "it gives you an excuse to forget you've seen the damn thing." Time, it seems, did not change his mind, as "Part 18" leaves you quite literally in the dark about the fate of Cooper and Laura, suggesting that the battle for Laura's soul will likely rage on long after that cut to black. Is it satisfying? No. But while "Part 18" refuses to provide the closure some fans might have wanted, Lynch's decision to deny his masterpiece an easy ending means that nobody will forget it in a hurry. 

"Better Call Saul" may have ended with a moment of quiet redemption, but "Breaking Bad" went out with a bang. "Felina," the finale of the wildly successful crime series, finds Walter White setting out to rescue Jesse (Aaron Paul) from the clutches of Jack Welker's (Michael Bowen) neo-Nazis, while also bidding farewell to his family and tying up the loose ends of his criminal enterprise. After mowing down the Nazis with a remote control machine gun, Walt frees Jesse and takes a final walk through a meth lab before succumbing to his wounds, a slight smile on his face.

There's something incredibly empowering about Walt's last stand. While the show's sequel series acts as a kind of 21st-century morality play, "Breaking Bad" affords its criminal protagonist a stirring victory against his foes — not just the Nazis, but also the police, Lydia (Laura Fraser), and his old business partners, Elliot (Adam Godley) and Gretchen (Jessica Hecht). Perhaps most importantly, he actually achieves the goal set out by the very first episode, setting up his family with enough money to take care of themselves after his death. Obviously, "Felina" leaves some dubious moral questions behind, especially considering a whole ton of people got murdered along the way, but Walt's triumph plays out with such punch-the-air brilliance that you can't help but root for him, right up until the very end. With villains like these, who needs heroes?

Depending on who you ask, "Made in America" ranks as either the best all-time TV finale or the worst. Most of the ire directed towards the "Sopranos" finale focuses on the last scene, in which Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini) sits down at a diner with his wife, Carmela (Edie Falco), and his son, A.J. (Robert Iler). Soundtracked by Journey's "Don't Stop Believin,'" the scene cuts between Tony sitting at the table and Meadow (Jamie-Lynn Sigler) struggling to park her car outside. Eventually, Meadow makes it to the diner and walks through the door. Tony looks up, and — that's it. Cut to black. Roll credits.

Back in 2007, "Made in America" stoked a righteous fury in audiences, even crashing HBO's website with their complaints. In an interview published soon after he fled to France, the show's creator, David Chase, explained that he would explain nothing. "No one was trying to be audacious, honest to God," he said. "We did what we thought we had to do." Fans have speculated endlessly about the meaning of "Made in America" in the years since, although one theory prevails: that some hidden figure assassinates Tony right after the cut to black, with the sudden nature of the ending foreshadowed by Bobby Bacala's (Steve Schirripa) suggestion, a few episodes earlier, that "you don't even hear it when it happens." 

In that context, "Made in America" gives "The Sopranos" one final, cruel flourish, snuffing out Tony's story as suddenly and ruthlessly as somebody did his life. Is it fair? No. But as Tony tells Bobby, "No risk, no reward." Above all else, "The Sopranos" is a show about a man who took those awful risks — and reaped the awful reward.