Derry Girls This show has a crazy, frenetic energy that put me off at first, but I finally circled back to it and discovered that it really is every bit as good as people say. It’s the brutally funny story of five friends at a Catholic girls’ school in 1990s Derry, Ireland. It’s set against the backdrop of The Troubles, which hovers quietly in the background without ever commanding center stage, yet wreaks havoc nonetheless. It’s absolutely impossible not to fall in love with these teenagers as they dive headlong into the world, making an endless array of bad decisions, tangling themselves up in frequent misunderstandings, and tumbling into a deluge of outlandish scenarios—all while trying to dodge the deadpan glare of Sister Michael. Its humour is rapid-fire and hilarious, its energy is feisty, and the acting is brilliant. Added bonus: fabulous soundtrack.
Fleabag Sex doesn’t play a central role in this show exactly, but it’s certainly plenty naughty! The über-talented Phoebe Waller-Bridge plays Fleabag (she’s never given another name), a free-spirited Londoner who has recently endured a tragedy—the details of which are parsed out over several episodes. She’s a bit of a mess— well, a lot of a mess—has no filter, is full of contradictions, even more expletives, and continually trips herself up as she navigates a tangle of relationships. Fleabag also breaks the fourth wall, delivering laugh-out-loud asides to the camera or punctuating a moment with a brilliantly timed expression or raised eyebrow. The writing is fast-paced, biting, frequently crass, often crude and yet also deeply poignant. But by far the best thing about the show, is the wicked insight it offers into people and relationships. Its storylines and scenarios have an uncanny knack for hitting the nail on head every single time. Sadly, there are just two seasons of six episodes apiece—but they are sheer genius.
Killing Eve Eve is an MI5 security officer who spends far too much time chained to her desk. Damn, she’s bored. Enter Villanelle, assassin extraordinaire. Suddenly a feral game of cat and mouse is afoot, and Eve’s days become decidedly more spicy. What begins as an intriguing professional obsession quickly develops into something far more complicated as Eve and Villanelle become increasingly fascinated by one another, with the line between hunter and hunted becoming more and more blurry as time progresses. With no disrespect to the brilliant Sandra Oh, it is nonetheless Jodie Comer, as Villanelle, who utterly steals this show—not just because of her brilliant acting, entertaining expressions, and myriad accents, but because of her sartorial splendor. There may be plenty of drab outfits when she’s in disguise, but on her own time Villanelle’s wardrobe is bold, brash, and frequently hilarious. She treats clothes as theatre, and from outrageous coats to killer shoes, her choices are as unpredictable and entertaining as she is. But the fashion is just one part of what makes Killing Eve such a deliciously addictive watch. The writing is dark, clever, and wickedly funny, the supporting characters are terrific, and the story continually keeps you guessing. It manages to be thrilling without taking itself too seriously, balancing violence, absurdity, humor, and genuine emotional complexity in a way that feels completely its own. Watch it. So much fun awaits.
Moll Flanders This one’s an oldie but a goodie. Moll is born in Newgate Prison to a woman who is subsequently transported to the Colonies. Initially raised by gypsies before being taken in by a respectable family, Moll becomes part servant, part family member—and is eventually seduced by the oldest son. Unwilling to marry her himself, he connives to have his younger brother become her husband instead. After several respectable years, Moll’s husband dies, and yearning to live life on her own terms, she leaves behind her two children and sets out into the world, honing her skills as a “gentlewoman,” pretending to have a fortune in order to attract a wealthy husband. The ruse serves Moll well enough, but husband number two flees the country after going bankrupt; number three takes her to the Colonies, where she believes she has finally found her true family and a happy life, only to lose it all through no fault of her own; and husband number four turns out to have no more money than she does. After a few more husbands—and a few more children—Moll spirals into whoring and thieving, eventually finding herself back at the very place her life began. Throughout it all, Moll is the very definition of a saucy trollop: feisty, unapologetic (mostly), resourceful, and determined to remain true to herself. It’s a rollicking good tale—spirited, bawdy and uproariously witty. Moll also breaks the fourth wall, making us willing accomplices in her increasingly outrageous adventures. It’s gloriously over-the-top, thoroughly entertaining, and Alex Kingston carries the whole thing with dizzying charm. Moll may have questionable morals, but she has an irresistible zest for life and you can’t help but root for her as she schemes and seduces her way through one calamity after another.
Bad Sisters One of the five tightly-knit Garvey sisters has a nasty piece of work for a husband and the other four decide that the absolute best place for him is six feet under. So they concoct a plan to put him there. Which fails. They try again to no avail. It appears that as well as being a prize prick, JP has more lives than a cat. We know that he’s dead because the opening scene shows him in a casket – how exactly he got there is a highly entertaining mystery. Meanwhile, two kinda bumbly insurance agents really, really don’t want to have to pay out the insurance settlement (owing to the fact that it will bankrupt them) and are hot on the sisters’ heels, investigating JP’s untimely demise in an attempt to prove that the sisters did indeed murder him. This was written by and co-stars the fabulously brilliant Sharon Horgan, and, as with all things Sharon Horgan, it is deliciously dark and wickedly funny. Everyone acting in it is sublime, there are endless twists, some shocking surprises and a gazillion things that go wrong, go right, and then go wrong again. So much fun to watch and absolutely one of my favourite shows from recent years.
Miss Scarlet And The Duke Schooled in the finer arts of detective work at the knee of her father, a retired police officer turned PI, Eliza Scarlet has always longed to follow in his footsteps. When he dies unexpectedly, leaving her with considerable debt, Eliza becomes a woman on a mission: to defy Victorian social conventions and make her way in a man’s world. At every opportunity she finagles her way into local investigations, much to the chagrin of William (the Duke of the title), a Scotland Yard DI, her father’s former protégé, and her own childhood friend. At first, the only thing Eliza succeeds in doing is getting herself into trouble. But she’s made of strong stuff and while she certainly bristles at the treatment she receives from men, she is also not above using her feminine wiles to get what she wants. Nor is she above scratching a few backs—or dealing with an unsavory client—if he happens to wave a nice wad of cash under her nose. There is, of course, the expected romantic tension between Eliza and the Duke, but it’s not overplayed and actually makes for some fun flirtation and a nice undercurrent of chemistry. The mysteries are interesting and nicely paced, and the show has that gentleness of spirit I find myself craving these days, while still possessing enough heft to counterbalance the sparkly energy. It’s lighthearted and amusing, and Kate Phillips, as Eliza, is adorably fresh-faced and charmingly cheeky.
Cranford There are few shows which I enjoy watching multiple times, but this is one of them. Brimming with female stalwarts of British film – Eileen Atkinson, Judi Dench, Imelda Staunton, Francesca Annis – it is wonderfully funny in the gentlest of ways. The women, mostly spinsters of limited means, live in a country village in Victorian England. There is no real structure or overarching plot; instead it’s a collection of life’s daily happenings, touching on love, relationships, illness and death. And gossip. Lots of gossip. And change. Change is a key theme that looms large over Cranford. There’s a new doctor in town with radical new medical techniques, and a railway is fast approaching which will surely bring with it the breakdown of law and order. At least that is what our leading ladies fear. But amidst all of the fearful chattering, lies kindness, compassion and an abundance of delightfully dry wit. It’s gentle, warm, quietly hilarious, and immensely comforting.