10 Best Sitcoms Streaming On HBO Max Right Now

The HBO Max library is full of gripping, acclaimed dramas, from "The Wire" to "The Sopranos" and more. But right now? Those morose shows can take a hike! We're here to laugh!

Yes, HBO Max has plenty of comedies to sink your teeth into. And unlike many of the great, classic sitcoms, these shows take that old HBO adage ("It's not TV, it's HBO") to heart. These are medium-bending, provocative, and boundary-pushing shows that would make any 1960s CBS executive blush. 

That's not to say these shows don't have the comforting elements of a sitcom you're looking for. You'll find brilliant ensemble casts and tons of jokes in all of these shows. You'll just also find iconoclastic multi-hyphenates, tonal complexities, and some mature content that would make that same 1960s CBS executive throw his TV out the window.

For anyone looking to get their giggle on, check out the 10 best sitcoms streaming on HBO Max right now. Tragedy tomorrow; comedy tonight!

Blending the pacing, plot twists, and filmmaking style of a trendy crime thriller with the buckwild comedic point of view of Tim Robinson, "The Chair Company" is like no other show on this list. It's gut-bustingly funny, genuinely menacing, and proof that Robinson can sustain his particular energy over a narrative series without it wearing thin.

Robinson co-created the show alongside Zach Kanin, the two of whom gave us the iconic Netflix sketch series "I Think You Should Leave" and the cult sitcom "Detroiters." In "The Chair Company," Robinson takes a typical "ITYSL" protagonist — a broken, desperate, yelling man trying desperately to fit into a society that keeps rejecting him — and asks a dangerous question: What if he was right all along?

Robinson's Ron Trosper, a professional mall designer, discovers a conspiracy after a chair he tried to sit in bursts into pieces. This uncovering and unraveling give Ron a newfound sense of purpose, but also reveal some latent darkness at his core, especially regarding his relationship with his family.

Stuffed with surreal vignettes, committed performances, and some of the wildest line-readings you'll ever see, "The Chair Company" will burrow under your skin and stay there, a rare sensation for a comedy.

In three seasons produced over a 20-year time span, co-creators Lisa Kudrow and Michael Patrick King gave us one of the definitive television statements about creating television. It also gave Kudrow the performance of a lifetime, one that gives her so much room to play and explore, one that inarguably trumps her excellent work as Phoebe on "Friends."

Kudrow plays Valerie Cherish, a veteran sitcom actress trying desperately to mount, well, a comeback. She does so by joining the cast of a new sitcom and most presciently, agreeing to have her life documented as a reality series by filmmaker Jane Benson (Laura Silverman).

With all of these inside-showbiz avenues, Kudrow and King are mercilessly accurate in their satire, making cringe comedy that rivals contemporaries like "The Office" (not to mention its inventive use of the mockumentary form). But what makes "The Comeback" a timeless, powerful comedy is its beating, ever-bleeding heart. Kudrow's performance is full of pathos and empathy; it's clear they're inviting us to laugh with, not at, Valerie Cherish and her wild world.

It's Larry David's world, and we're just living in it. Then again, anyone who comes into the fictionalized Larry David's orbit on "Curb Your Enthusiasm" might paint him as the invasive alien to a calm, humane existence. This makes "Curb" one of the best comedic Rorschach tests you can experience, one whose episodes are chock full of awkward, borderline farcical explosions of modern grievances.

The real Larry David is one of the maestros behind "Seinfeld," and "Curb" takes that multicam sitcom's predilection for neurotic, lessonless conflicts and crystallizes it into the purest, and therefore, most cringe-inducing version possible. In fact, David is so relentless in this creative pursuit that one season involves reviving "Seinfeld," an effort that "Larry" torpedoes in his typical fashion.

With 12 seasons full of phenomenal ensemble and guest players for David to bounce off of, "Curb Your Enthusiasm" is an onslaught of comedy, an important piece of 21st-century TV history for those who can stomach its edge.

Many rock bands are cool. This is not the case for the Flight of the Conchords (the fictionalized version, that is), the New Zealand comedy band that stars in this eponymous show. Band members Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie try their best to seem cool and make it in New York City, but their awkward misadventures get hamstrung at every turn.

"Flight of the Conchords" is the only musical comedy on this list, and the music is splendid, hopping across all matters of genre to make catchy, silly, and endearing jokes about topics as wide-ranging as robotic domination and French pretentiousness. Jemaine and Bret, who wrote the tunes and play versions of themselves, get to perform these songs in surreal vignettes that might touch the edge of "cool."

But back in the real world, it's nothing but petty squabbles, a well-meaning but borderline incompetent manager (Rhys Darby, present), and gigs that routinely draw just one obsessive fan (Kristen Schaal, of "Bob's Burgers"). It's a demystifying show, one that uses the grammar of things like music videos to demonstrate the difficult, yet intoxicating, journey a musician takes.

In the show "Girls," writer Hannah Horvath wonders aloud if she "may be the voice of my generation." We're meant to laugh at this line, to marvel at the character's hubris crossed paradoxically with her neuroses. But the gag is, with "Girls," creator and Hannah portrayer Lena Dunham kind of nailed being the voice of her generation. After all, "Girls" is arguably one of the best shows of the 21st century.

"Girls" is an essential text for examining the sociological context of millennial malaise. If you were a twentysomething in the 2010s, "Girls" hit you close to the bone, whether with Hannah's selfishness, Marnie's (Allison Williams) painful earnestness, Adam's (Adam Driver) volatility, or any of the myriad misadventures these fledgling adults get into.

The show is full of lacerating, painful observations and indictments of this generation. But it's also very funny and very self-aware, even and especially when dissecting characters without any self-awareness or sense of humor. Plus, some of its greatest episodes, like "American B****" or "Beach House," play like self-contained chamber plays that don't require much context to dip into and enjoy.

Another essential HBO show that nails millennials, "Insecure" is the breakthrough project of co-creator and star Issa Rae. She plays a version of herself called Issa Dee, a young adult who works at a non-profit organization, struggles with her oblivious (read: white) coworkers, and reckons with her relationships with friends and lovers alike.

Rae is a dynamite performer, easily centering an ensemble full of terrific performers like comedians Yvonne Orji and Langston Kerman. Issa Dee, despite the many eff-ups she makes throughout the series, remains radiant and charismatic, showing strength even when interrogating her own relatable weaknesses.

"Insecure" is full of authentic specificities about being a Black woman, particularly the joys and celebrations that shine through even during difficult moments, eschewing some of the problematically trendy "Black pain" you see exploited in other shows. It gives the sitcom an endearing sense of hope and power among its sharp jokes and commentary.

The oldest show on this list, "The Larry Sanders Show" aired from 1992 through 1998, though on modern watch, it still feels hipper and more adventurous than many 21st-century sitcoms. It's a staggering work of comedic genius, one that lowkey influenced every show you've liked since, from "Arrested Development" to "30 Rock" and more.

Comedy legend Garry Shandling plays Larry Sanders, the fictional host of a late-night talk show. Alongside his blustering producer Artie (Rip Torn), buffoonish sidekick Hank (Jeffrey Tambor), and a litany of personal and professional thorns in his side, Larry tries his best to put on a successful show without everything going belly up.

Beyond its workplace sitcom pleasures, "The Larry Sanders Show" cuts through with a relentlessly metatextual, fourth wall-leaning voice that ensures nothing is sacred. Its celebrity guest stars make fun of themselves, it mines much of its comedic conflicts about "how to create comedic conflict," and sometimes, the comedian Garry Shandling is even referenced to Larry Sanders' face. It all makes for a postmodern thrill ride of sharpness and savviness.

From creator and star Danny McBride (who also co-created and starred in the great sports series "Eastbound & Down"), "The Righteous Gemstones" is a raucous time full of committed performers doing the most bugnuts things imaginable.

The titular Gemstone family are televangelists of a gaudy megachurch enterprise, led by John Goodman and his children, McBride, Adam DeVine, and Edi Patterson. If you know anything about the real televangelist culture (think Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker), you know there's already plenty of absurdity baked in.

Yet McBride and his team find a way to heighten everything (and we mean everything) further, escalating the series over four seasons of set pieces, fearless character work, and at least one undeniably catchy bop. But it's not all stormy craziness; there's a surprising amount of pathos among the character's pathetic power grabs, especially as seen by Patterson's ineffectual husband, played brilliantly by Tim Baltz. It's a non-stop show that will grab you with showiness and keep you with depth. Sing it with us: "Runnin' through the house with a pickle in my mouth!"

At the core of the great 2010 film "The Social Network" lies a farce about the broken manchildren who revolutionized our addiction to technology. "Silicon Valley" takes this kernel of a POV and blows it up to a six-season sitcom of equal parts satire and silliness.

Thomas Middleditch stars as Richard Hendricks, a meek but ingenious programmer who founds an increasingly successful startup in the heart of Silicon Valley. Alongside a downright perfect comedic cast including Martin Starr, Kumail Nanjiani, and Jimmy O. Yang, Middleditch plays the series as a simultaneous race to the top and the bottom. The more notoriety his company receives, the more his sanity nosedives. Hey, if making a unicorn was easy, everyone would do it.

The fundamental joy of "Silicon Valley" is its blending of smart, authentic, and excoriating observations about contemporary tech culture with its middle school-level sense of vulgarity. It's the kind of show that will spend 10 or so minutes on a complicated algorithm about male appendages, and it's all for the better.

Speaking of the intersection of vulgarity and satire: "Veep" is not only one of the greatest sitcoms ever made, it's one of the greatest pieces of political art ever created.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus notches her second "instantly iconic television role" as Selina Meyer, the Vice President of the United States. Under the watchful eye of creator Armando Iannucci, who codified this kind of show with the essential "The Thick of It," Meyer's day-to-day routine is stuffed with incompetence, a revolving door of neurotics, and some of the most inventive insults ever committed to the small screen.

Louis-Drefyus' performance won her six Emmy awards, and for good reason. She's playing a high-wire balancing act of public respectability versus private meltdowns, sometimes within the same line. As for the ensemble surrounding her, from Tony Hale to Anna Chlumsky to the inimitable Timothy Simons, they all make this version of Washington D.C. feel alive and miserable — in the most entertaining way possible, of course.