Too Much spoilers incoming.
Welcome to ‘Showtime with Emily Maddick’, in which GLAMOUR'S Assistant Editor and Entertainment Director brings a unique perspective to the month's most hyped film or TV show. For July’s instalment, Emily reviews Lena Dunham's return to our screens with her new 10-part romantic comedy, Too Much. The Netflix show, which Dunham describes as a ‘subverted romcom’ is not only heartbreaking, heartwarming and hilarious TV, it's also groundbreaking in its non-judgemental portrayal of a female main character, Jess, whose ‘too much’ traits are celebrated, normalised and not shamed.
Lena Dunham is back and my goodness what wonderful news this is. Too Much, her mega-anticipated 10-part romantic comedy series which she co-wrote, directs and stars in, lands on Netflix today and, I am pleased to report, it is absolutely worth every iota of the hype. With a stonking cast including Meg Stalter, Will Sharpe, Emily Ratajkowski, Rita Wilson, Adwoa Aboah and Dunham herself; plus cameos from British heavyweights Richard E. Grant, Stephen Fry, Andrew Scott, Jennifer Saunders, Naomi Watts, Rita Ora and (non Brit) Jessica Alba it is heartwarming, heartbreaking and hilarious TV.
It also introduces a female protagonist that the world (and myself) has been crying out for
Jess (Stalter) is an open-hearted, yet broken-hearted thirty-something New Yorker who moves to London (along with her bald handbag dog, Astrid) to recover from a toxic relationship that saw her boyfriend, Zev, leave her for a famous influencer called Wendy Jones (Ratajkowski). Believing she’s moving to an Austen-esque stately ‘estate’ as opposed to the reality of a council block in Hackney, Jess lands a job at an advertising agency run by the eccentric boomer, Jonno, (Grant.) When it comes to a chirpy, enthusiastic American navigating her fantasy European city working with a bunch of creatives, Emily in Paris this is not. And thank god for that.
Jess soon meets and falls for the messy, floppy haired, indie musician Felix (Sharpe). Felix is charming, sexy, public school educated (and public school messed up) skint and in recovery with a litany of disastrous past romances still very much in his life. Thus ensues a love story that Dunham has called a ‘subverted rom com’ and one that pays deliberate homage to the British rom coms she grew up loving, including Notting Hill, Four Weddings and a Funeral and Love Actually. (There are even individual episodes devoted to each of these films and it's no coincidence that the show’s executive producers are Working Title’s Tim Bevan and Eric Fellner - who were behind those titans of the box office - giving the show’s vibe a spot on nostalgia.)
The narrative is loosely based on Dunham’s (who has a supporting role playing Jess' sister, Nora) own real life moving to London from New York in 2021 and meeting her now husband, British musician Luis Felber, with whom she wrote the show. The writing is classic Dunham: beautiful, poignant, witty and raw; the characters in Jess’ new world, acutely and accurately observed as is the skewering of the British class system. (The Saltburn-esque episode 8, One Wedding and a Sex Pest is a pure joy to watch.) But it’s our heroine, Jess, who steals the show as she struggles with the messiness of love and life in London and clearly being what many (men) would perceive as ‘too much’.
A must-watch this summer.
And for someone who also struggled with the messiness of love in London in her thirties, and was often dismissed as ‘too much’ by numerous past romantic partners, Jess is the representation I so badly needed back then. It’s the first time I’ve seen ‘too much’ behaviours I can relate to reflected back on screen and not dismissed or mocked as hot mess territory. There’s compassion, empathy and a humanising to Jess’s behaviour. And crucially, no judgement.
Her body shape, her mental health, her rage and her tears are not dissected, deliberated, shamed or scandalised. They just are. Unlike previous onscreen incarnations of ‘too much’ women - Bridget Jones, Fleabag, Annie in Bridesmaids - Jess is portrayed as finding strength in her shortcomings. We are shown how she is haunted by the trauma of her past relationship and how she struggles with the difficulties of her new one, but the tone of the show comes from a place of compassion for Jess.
Of course her behaviour is at times extreme and also, not advisable. For example when, early on in episode one, she breaks into her old apartment in Brooklyn, blind drunk in the middle of the night and stands at the end of her ex’s bed, screaming at him and his new girlfriend before smashing the living room up with a garden gnome. Clearly this is not something for viewers to try at home. Nor is it excusable. But it’s also not portrayed as something to beat Jess over the head with misogyny and shame.
“I may have taken a gnome to your home, but you took an axe to my heart, Wendy Jones,” Jess rages.
Equally, later on in the show, when she stands on the street outside Felix’s house in the middle of the night, repeatedly yelling his name after taking a £300 Uber from work, having nearly shagged her movie director client on a job, Jess isn't portrayed as the brunt of the joke, crazy or mad.
In fact, the only time Jess is ever told she is ‘too much,’ is following a wild West London dinner party in episode 4, that sees her ending up doing coke in the bath with the boss’s wife (Naomi Watts). Felix turns to her afterwards, while she's babbling away in a moon-dappled Notting Hill square and says, “You’re too much.” When Jess takes offence, he responds, “No, too much like a good thing. Like just the right amount and then a little bit more.” The subversion of this classic misogynistic trope is glorious to see.
And even in the moment that Jess’s life could have imploded through an embarrassing viral social media mishap, she steps up, distracting herself by seizing control of a disaster at work and has the best day of her career (with the help of Rita Ora dressed as Santa). Which inevitably leads to the fragile-egoed Felix not coping with her success, treating her appallingly and going on a rampage of self-destruction.
(Side note, I cannot tell you the amount of times I too have encountered a fragile-egoed manchild not coping with my career success and treating me appallingly.)
Of course, Dunham has got form for showing the messy, glorious realities of womanhood and sisterhood on screen. It’s her USP and what catapulted her to global stardom, (via a few messy personal controversies herself,) and made her debut TV show, Girls such ground-breaking television in the 2010s.
But whereas Girls had an edge that was gritty, navel-gazing and at times, bleak, Too Much is more robust, more fun, more hopeful, more romantic. Although it also doesn’t shy away from tougher storylines including abortion and the legacy of child sexual abuse.
It depicts a 40-year-old woman's steamy fling with a young hipster.
In a recent interview with the Sunday Times, Dunham reflected on the difference between the two shows and how much softer Too Much is compared to the brutality and brittleness of Girls. “That was clearly a reflection of how I saw my twenties,” she said. “I also felt in my twenties there was something embarrassing about writing things that were saccharine or sincere or happy. I was much more interested in irony and satire and harshness and scandalising people. I felt like I needed to reflect the toughest aspects of life back to people so that they would feel less alone. And now I think maybe you can reflect the sweeter parts of life to people so they can feel hopeful.”
And hopeful is exactly how Too Much makes you feel and also what we all need right now. And lastly, dear reader, I did eventually like Jess, finally find a wonderful, handsome, sensitive, kind, creative man - with his fair share of baggage too - who, like Felix, found my own ‘too much’ behaviour to be just the right amount and then a little bit more. There is hope out there for us all, I promise!
Too Much is streaming now on Netflix.
