The narrative thread of countless corseted era dramas, upon which Jessica, the protagonist and narrator of Lena Dunham's latest Netflix series "Too Much," has woven her vision of England, unfolds somewhat like this: A naive ingenue stumbles upon a foreign terrain, where she, awkwardly, unpreparedly, and above all, authentically, succumbs to love with a distinguished gentleman who, despite her humble connections and imperfections, reciprocates her affections. Often, these tales are staged against the backdrop of a picturesque manor, grand and majestic, with ample nooks ideal for serendipitous encounters with one's future beloved. Such is the fate of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy; similarly, that of Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester. Their romantic sagas have stood the test of time, not merely due to their meticulous crafting, but also because, much like all romances, they embody fantasies. They narrate tales where an individual's core, their irrepressible charm, can soar beyond the shackles of society, convention, and ego. Part of Lizzy Bennet's allure lies in Mr. Darcy's attempt to resist her allure.
"Too Much" brazenly acknowledges its influences: Jessica, who frequently invokes Jane Austen's novels, finds herself as a foreigner in unfamiliar terrain, open to the allure of love despite her quirky demeanor. Scarred by her recent breakup, she shies away from the ingenue label, yet, being a Lena Dunham creation, she exudes unwavering sincerity, a trait that resonates beautifully with Megan Stalter's earnest portrayal. As "Nonsense & Sensibility" unfolds, Jessica meanders through London, contemplating the myriad possibilities inspired by movies, television, and books that have now come within her reach. In England, she tells Wendy Jones, her ex-boyfriend's fiancée and the addressee of her narration, a woman can embody any identity, be it "a resilient police sergeant who harnesses her trauma to solve ghastly crimes," "a compassionate sex worker," or "a carefree socialite with a lifetime of adventures ahead." What Jessica is destined to learn, evident from the outset, is that timeless lesson: You carry yourself wherever you venture.
The pilot episode is intensely foreshadowing, working diligently to propel Jessica to England, elucidate her reasons for relocating, and establish the myriad references and archetypes it pays homage to, ranging from iconic British romantic comedies like "Bridget Jones's Diary" and "Notting Hill" (both produced, like "Too Much," by Working Title Films) to Elizabethan and Victorian novels. For those privy to Lena Dunham's personal life, which encompasses those who follow her in any capacity, it also draws parallels between her and Jessica: Dunham now resides in London, where she tied the knot following a very public split from musician and producer Jack Antonoff, who, in turn, has married the other worldly stunning actress Margaret Qualley. However, such is the essence of pilot episodes, particularly those spanning a 30-minute runtime: They cram a plethora of elements into a pace that, at times, risks suffocating character development.
I intend to steer clear of direct comparisons as far as possible, recognizing that these are distinctly different television endeavors. However, the allure of the pilot episode of "Girls" – Dunham's cinematic gem from the mid-2010s – lies in its relentless assault on the senses with a plethora of vivid characters. That initial installment bore a certain raw texture, which Netflix's characteristic polish has here smoothed over. "Girls" was a genre unto itself, heavily influenced by works that prioritized character over plot (such as "Sex and the City," Woody Allen's films, Claudia Weill's 1978 movie "Girlfriends," and Nicole Holofcener's 1996 flick "Walking and Talking"). Consequently, character development served as the narrative's primary engine. Megan Stalter's task now is to embody more of her authentic self and less of a Dunham impression, resisting the urge to channel Hannah Horvath in London.
With that established, how did Jessica find herself in London, amidst the throes of a heart-wrenching split from "Zev Jeremiah Goldstein," who deserted her citing his unreadiness for marital and paternal responsibilities, only to swiftly become engaged to Wendy Jones, a social media influencer portrayed by – mark this well – Emily Ratajkowski? A month prior to her London exile, an inebriated Jessica broke into Zev's apartment – he'd changed the locks against her – by smashing a window with a garden gnome, storming into their bedroom to seek clarification for their betrayal. Wendy, ever the diplomatic yet irritating soul, remarks, "I want to acknowledge your feelings... but you're coming off as crazy," while Zev finds himself hyperventilating.
Post-breakup, Jessica retreated to Long Island, sharing space with her fitness-fanatic mother (the ever-exceptional Rita Wilson), her grandmother (Rhea Perlman), her newly divorced sister Nora (Dunham), and her nephew, whose quirky demeanor seems an extension of the women's collective personality. Jessica dubs her family home a "Grey Gardens purgatory for single women," yet their bond is heartwarming and endearing, filled with wit akin to the Edies but devoid of their melancholic undertones. These are singular, hilarious women, the kind you'd cherish sharing a bottle of wine with, only to find themselves solitary at night's end. Though Jessica harbored dreams of becoming a "great film director" with "insights into the female experience," she found herself ensconced in a producer's chair for over a decade and a half.
But Jessica Alba, a remarkable producer in her own right, finds herself in an intriguing dilemma during a commercial shoot for her company. Playing the role of herself, she yearns to assume directorial control, overthrowing the arrogant male director who disregards her invaluable insights. When Alba, the character, suggests she take the reins, Jessica, the producer, hesitates – paralyzed by the unexpected affirmation of her competence from a significant figure. It's in the hallway, amidst a moment of respite, that her boss, Nora's ex-husband (played by Andrew Rannells), draws her aside. He observes that since her breakup, she's been a shadow of her former self and presents her with an opportunity: a three-month gig in London shooting a Christmas commercial. There, amidst the charm of England, which has always captivated her, she might rediscover herself or even embrace a new persona. Teasingly, he adds, "You adore those films where women faint and succumb to tuberculosis, don't you?"
Arriving in London, Jessica anticipates a "Merchant Ivory" escapade, envisioning herself residing in a grand estate, fanned by adoring neighbors and employees. Instead, she finds herself at Hoxton Grove Estate, a modest apartment building with thin walls and eclectic, sometimes crude, tenants. Her sole companion is Gaz, an odd yet endearing neighbor. Scrolling through Wendy's Instagram, Jessica stumbles upon a jarring sight – Zev proposing with a ring perched on a lizard. Summoning her courage, she dons an outfit and ventures to the local "pub."
It's here that her fortune begins to shift. In the pub, the band "Felix and the Feelers," fronted by the enigmatic Felix, a flawlessly nail-polished and lipsticked Will Sharpe, performs a haunting, gritty tune. Their chance encounter in the bathroom is prefaced by Jessica tossing Felix a roll of toilet paper – an amusing cultural gap for international readers – just before a sullen beauty storms off from him at the bar. Outside, as Jessica struggles with summoning an Uber in an English-speaking country (despite the app being in English, what could possibly go wrong?!), Felix offers to escort her home. An immediate chemistry ignites between Jess and Felix. His British charm and dry humor resonate with Jessica, an open book herself, prompting her to confide in him about her breakup.
Yet, upon reaching her "abode" and Jess initiating a kiss, Felix fails to reciprocate — he's been "involved with someone else," determined to chart a new course this time around, a subtle clue for us to heed. Jess, perceptive enough to catch the hint, is embarrassed by her bold move and escorts him to the door, steadfastly refusing to exchange phone numbers. Yet, Felix finds himself entranced by Jess: she had confided in him that Fiona Apple's 'Tidal' was her inaugural CD possession, prompting him to play "Slow Like Honey" on his way back home, ultimately compelling him to turn around.
Concurrently, Jess films herself using the front-facing camera, addressing Wendy. "The blaze of my ardor cannot be quenched," she fumes, holding a candle beneath her chin. As she becomes increasingly absorbed in her own dramatic flair, she inadvertently drops the candle, igniting the front of her Elizabethan-inspired nightgown and sparking a危机. In a panic, Jessica dials the NHS, and paramedics swiftly extinguish the flames by immersing her in the cool waters of the shower. Gaz arrives to offer support, albeit well-meaning, but his presence becomes redundant with Felix's unexpected return. "Oh Wendy," she narrates excitedly, "there he stood. My Mr. Darcy. My Rochester. My... Felix." It's evident that Felix lacks the wealth or arrogant demeanor of Darcy or Rochester. However, this comparison hints at Felix harboring secrets, foreshadowing an unwanted revelation in this romantic comedy. Jessica confesses her disappointment with Hoxton Grove Estate, acknowledging that she's "recalibrating her expectations." The best romantic comedies derive their tension from the contradiction that such adjustments are detrimental to the blossoming of romance.
The chemistry between Stalter and Sharpe is palpable, with Stalter grounding her quirks in a grounded realism and balancing her openness with self-assurance. I find myself already cheering for them, acknowledging that, at some point, my heart is destined to be broken.
