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I keep recommending Such Brave Girls to people, and as I start to talk about it, I feel my face contort into a peculiar rigidity. A grin, or a wince, something between the two. "It's so good," I say, carefully. "But so dark." I feel a real responsibility to add that part. So dark. Not for everyone. Careful, in case you burn yourself.
The first series of Such Brave Girls quickly became one of my favourite new comedies in years. I say that without hyperbole. It was superb. It was vicious and cruel and it went to places that I thought comedy might not be willing to go to at the moment. It was about living on the breadline and fucking up and making terrible choices, and what if you hate your life, or your partner, or your children, or your parents, or yourself, or all of them, and there is no redemption, only more bad choices. It felt fresher than anything I had seen in a long time, and galvanising in its eagerness to be appalling. I loved it. Loved it.
So I approached the second season with excitement and some trepidation. You don't want your favourite show to come back with difficult second album syndrome. I watched the first three episodes on an iPad on a late-night train, following a 30th birthday party, slightly pissed and far too hot, in the final embers of the last heatwave we had in the UK. It might just be because I'm currently baking in the heatwave that immediately followed it – I'm not great in the heat, can you tell – but sensory context has a big part to play. A bit like when Heston Blumenthal makes you put on headphones and listen to the sea while you eat a crab. Such Brave Girls feels like someone is holding your hand too tight, for far too long. Watching it on a stuffy train full of post-pub passengers, your mouth getting dry, is sort of awful, and sort of perfect.
I watched the last three episodes at home, as the heat began to rise again. If I wasn't so busy, I would have gulped down the whole thing in one sitting. This is unusual, for me. When I adore a show, I am happy to stretch it out, to watch an episode every couple of days, to make it last, like Charlie Bucket sniffing his birthday Wonka bar. But in this case, I felt a strong and urgent need to get it over with, to get through it, to get it done. I think this is a credit to Kat Sadler and to the show. Because it was beautifully awful last time, but instead of broadening its appeal, it has turned up every horrible, terrible dial, and made itself even more excruciating. And that is some achievement. I loved it and I found it very difficult to watch. So dark. Not for everyone.
Isn’t it the best.
End Credits
Such Brave Girls is on BBC iPlayer.
When I was looking for a trailer, I found a blooper reel for series one. I bloody love a blooper reel.
Watch List
For fun, I have watched nothing this week but football, tennis and Such Brave Girls. But for work, I reviewed a couple of other shows, including Building the Band (Netflix), the latest attempt to make music competitions happen on TV again. I'm not sure it's going to do it, but I mentioned in the review that it is wild to watch old YouTube videos of Pop Idol auditions, and compare it to the skills that people bring to a talent show audition today.
I also watched Too Much (Netflix), the Lena Dunham romcom-ish series about a lively American woman who settles down with a troubled indie musician in London. I notice that there’s a clear distinction between US and UK reviews of it, with the US much more positive, so make of that what you will.
Regret to inform you, as I write this in 31°C heat, that as of Monday, summer is officially over, because Only Connect and University Challenge are back for new series (BBC2). Someone get the fire on.
Sounds good, have a hole in my watching because I just finished somebody somewhere and am bereft
Obsessed