Lena Dunham’s Too Much is too much for me
Have we had enough of the ‘American girl goes to Europe to find herself, and finds herself in the bed of the guy of her dreams along the way’ trope yet? Have we had enough of specifically that trope with the added regurgitation of bland references to Austen and 2/3 of the Bronte sisters yet (my regards to poor, forgotten Anne)? Apparently not!
Lena Dunham’s new Netflix show looks at all of your favourite 90s rom-coms (think anything with Hugh Grant – Netflix’s accountants really want you to think of those Hugh Grant films; they got the Notting Hill producers on this and everything) and asks the big question – what if the main character was the most insufferable person you’ve ever met?
Megan Stalter’s Jessica, competing against Nicole Kidman’s Moulin Rouge performance for Most Whiny Noises per Minute, is sent to London by the advertising agency she works for to collaborate on Too Much’s version of the John Lewis Christmas advert. Her first night there, she meets floppy-haired indie boy Felix (played by Will Sharpe), and romance ensues. An advertising agency sends a quirky American girl with pop-culture-level cultural awareness to help out their international partners, and she finds love along the way? That plot sounds familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why… Something about Paris, maybe? A character called Amelia? Emberly? It’ll come to me.
I enjoy Felix and Jessica’s interactions. They feel awkward in a grounded and tender way, and I found myself rooting for their relationship despite fervently wishing to close my browser and write the rest of the series off as a bad dream. The other central hook of Too Much is Jessica’s recovery from a recent break-up with that guy from The Marvelous Mrs Maisel (Michael Zegen), and his recent engagement to a social media influencer. This allows the show to do some remarkably subtle pitting of Jessica, who listens to such niche artists as Fiona Apple and Taylor Swift, against the mainstream attractiveness of the other woman, who certainly is not America’s Fleabag like our fair Jessica. Welcome back, My Best Friend’s Wedding, I was wondering where you’d gone. That resolves quite sweetly actually, but spoilers are evil work, so I won’t tell you how.
Perhaps I am being harsh on the show, but as an enjoyer of literature written by women (my cat is called Bronte, if you needed credentials on that) it rankles me to hear the work of trailblazing writers like Jane Austen and a good two of the Bronte siblings flattened into swoony set dressing by the very media that claims to pay homage to them. In rom-com marketing department choruses there are never-ending refrains of, ‘ooh, if I could only find my Darcy,’ ‘ooh, if I could only find my Heathcliff,’ and it drowns out Jane Austen’s razer-sharp social satire, and the fact that, seeing as Wuthering Heights is more of a psychological Gothic thriller about intergenerational trauma than a romance, if you do find your Heathcliff you should run away very quickly. Not to say that there can’t be enjoyment in stories that take inspiration from these women – The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society I have seen approximately twelve times, and shall doubtless see twelve more, and if you catch me watching the same adaption of Sense and Sensibility Jessica pines over in episode one, you will see that my cold, fun-hating heart can experience joy. Even so, the name Mr. Darcy has become like an activation phrase for me, alerting my suspicions as to an oncoming onslaught of unabashed Anglophilia.
I watched Too Much mostly out of a sense of journalistic curiosity, and that is an important pinch of salt to keep in your hand as I tell you whether or not I’d recommend it. I also just like being mean, so bear that in mind, too. Personally, I saw merit in it! I enjoy the relationship, I like the guitar boy and his nail polish, I like the granny, and I like the little naked dog. Will I watch it again? You’re very funny. Should you watch it? Definitely! Maybe you’ll think I’m way off, and it’s the best thing since sliced Girls. I’m not the boss of you, and I encourage you to make your own mind up. Or just watch the superior Pride and Prejudice adaption (the Colin Firth miniseries) again – up to you.
