Girls gone bad

Bangkok Post

17-07-2025

Remember the popular HBO series Girls from over a decade ago? The show was widely recognised for its postfeminist commentary on female sexuality and millennial angst and it ran for a surprisingly long six seasons. To this day, I still don't really understand the rave reviews. I only watched a few episodes here and there, so I won't pretend to be an expert on it, but what I saw never quite resonated with me.
Now comes Too Much, a new Netflix drama-comedy created by none other than Lena Dunham -- the same voice behind Girls. And after watching all 10 episodes, Too Much feels like a spiritual sequel to Girls. Whether that's a compliment or a criticism is open to interpretation.
But to me, it felt like Dunham took everything that was frustrating, cringe-inducing and painfully self-conscious about Girls, gave it a new coat of paint and dropped it into a different setting -- London.
The show follows Jessica (Megan Stalter), a New York-based workaholic in her mid-30s who is reeling from a heartbreak that she still hasn't emotionally recovered from. Her daily life in Manhattan is now haunted by the ghosts of her past missteps -- streets that remind her of arguments, restaurants that remind her of failed dates and friends she's slowly pushed away.
So what does she do? She takes a job in London with the plan of disappearing into a life of romantic solitude -- imagining herself as some kind of modern-day Brontë sister. But her grand vision is quickly interrupted when she meets Felix (Will Sharpe), a charming but clearly problematic Englishman with a laundry list of red flags. Their messy, chaotic and at times toxic relationship becomes the central thread of the series.
Genre-wise, Too Much is an odd and uneasy blend of romance, satire and character comedy. What makes the experience so uncomfortable is Megan Stalter's overbearing performance as Jessica. And it's not just the acting -- the entire show revolves around this character's emotional instability and poor decision-making, with very few moments that feel grounded or earned.
I've never had a problem with characters being annoying, selfish, or even downright insufferable. In fact, some of the most memorable TV characters are defined by their flaws. But if I'm meant to root for them -- or at the very least stay invested in their arc -- there has to be a sense of movement or growth. Jessica, however, is a challenge to connect with. She's whiny, theatrical, self-involved and awkward, but not in any way that feels endearing or funny.
The typical redemption arc requires that a character who starts off flawed begin to recognise their own shortcomings and, little by little, make meaningful changes. Jessica does eventually start to grow and become slightly more self-aware, but it takes far too long. The show waits until the final few episodes to kick this transformation into gear, which made much of the season feel like a frustrating loop of the same behaviour and poor choices over and over again.
Another major issue I had with Too Much is the dialogue. Simply put, it's not interesting. The conversations between characters are long-winded, self-indulgent, and, frankly, tedious. Maybe I'm past the age where this kind of millennial or post-millennial introspection feels relatable. But for me, watching these characters speak felt like being trapped in a room full of people having conversations I couldn't care less about. The show tries to capture the rhythm of modern emotional discourse, but ends up sounding like a parody of therapy-speak and TikTok oversharing.
Jessica and Felix, as leads, are both hard to like. I get that Dunham is going for realism, showing us flawed people who don't always say the right thing or act with grace. But their narcissism and lack of self-awareness become exhausting. I kept waiting for that one episode, or even one scene, where I'd finally connect with them -- or at least understand why I should care. But that moment never came.
Not all the humour misses. There are times when the show lands a decent laugh, particularly in some of the more absurd situations. I did find myself smirking occasionally, or shuffling awkwardly in my seat during especially cringey moments -- but more out of second-hand embarrassment than genuine comedy. Many of the awkward or "funny" situations are just the result of terrible decision-making and instead of being humorous, they end up feeling repetitive or needlessly exasperating.
That said, the show does have a few redeeming qualities. Visually, Too Much does a lovely job of capturing the feel of London. From the grey skies and cosy cafes to the urban corners and awkward social customs, the city almost becomes a character in itself. The "fish-out-of-water" jokes, while occasionally overused, do manage to add texture and contrast to Jessica's American sensibilities. There are a few chuckle-worthy moments drawn from culture clash and misunderstanding.
Another thing I genuinely appreciated is the show's refreshingly honest approach to sex and body image. Unlike many series that exclusively depict sex between perfectly toned, model-like bodies, Too Much offers scenes that feel more realistic, with characters who look like actual people. Jessica, who is plus-sized, is portrayed confidently and without apology, which adds a nice touch of authenticity and inclusivity to a genre that often lacks both.
Unfortunately, none of that is quite enough to rescue the show from its own indulgences. The writing feels like therapy sessions disguised as scripts and the performances, especially from Stalter, often cross the line from bold to grating. Even the celebrity cameos -- Naomi Watts, Jessica Alba, Stephen Fry and Kit Harington -- feel like distractions rather than meaningful contributions.
Even though I had my fair share of criticisms about Girls, at least I could acknowledge that it had a spark of originality and daring in its earlier seasons. The problem with Too Much is that it inherits all the same flaws as Girls -- the narcissism and the lack of accountability and self-involvement -- but offers even less in return. The show tries to say something about identity, self-worth, and healing, but those messages get buried under characters that are just too hard to care about. If you're older than 20 -- or just not in the mood for 10 episodes of performative vulnerability -- maybe skip this one.