RIOTUS

Too Much is described as “an ex-pat rom-com for the disillusioned who wonder if true love is still possible, but sincerely hope that it is,” and I suppose it fulfils that statement. In particular, the “disillusioned” part, because that’s how I felt after watching this series. 

So, let’s begin, shall we?

Jessica (Megan Stalter) is going through it. After a nasty breakup, she feels like she’s hit rock bottom and her only way out is to leave New York and start fresh. So she takes a job in London, where her fantasies of marrying a dashing English nobleman can finally begin to play out. Yeah, told’ya she’s going through it. Unfortunately, England doesn’t quite live up to its Jane Austen stereotypes and leaves Jess feeling more lost than ever. 

But then she meets Felix (Will Sharpe). A guy who is also going through it—and they can’t help but be drawn to one another. Jess’ wild and whimsical personality bumps up against Felix’s brash and carefree attitude, and sparks fly. One quite literal fiery encounter leads to a will-they-won’t-they make it through the ups and downs of everything they’re trying not to deal with. And, well, you know how it goes.

Stalter is a lovely and vibrant lead who truly embodies Jess’ struggle. And Sharpe is charming and layered as Felix; their chemistry is tangible and playful. The supporting cast is great, popping in with zings and eccentricities that endear them, for the most part. And the guest stars—including Richard E. Grant, Stephen Fry, Rhea Perlman, Emily Ratajkowski, and so many more—are like a breath of fresh air, each bringing no small amount of joy and laughs to their scenes. One of the standout storylines of the season is when Felix returns to his family home, and you get a glimpse into what his life was like growing up. You can really feel the layers of pain and love wrapped up in family history and all its complexities.

I wanted to like this series. I really did. And, as you can tell from the above, there are parts where I laughed out loud, or my heart went out to the characters, and that’s largely due to the cast’s performances. My problem lies in the uneven writing. Just when you think it’s going well and you’re rooting for the characters, some of the—let’s call them jokes for clarity’s sake—throw everything off balance. When the writing veers into problematic territory, it takes you out of the story and makes you wonder why these often throwaway lines weren’t thrown away entirely. And when the storylines commit to these insensitive views, it leaves you feeling icky. 

It’s a shame because the examinations of mental health and abuse are sometimes deep and complex here, but they’re discredited by crass remarks and plotlines about consent, body image, and addiction played for cheap laughs. It’s one of the issues I had with show creator Lena Dunham’s other series Girls; Too Much is once again told through a privileged white woman lens, and you can’t help but feel uncomfortable under its unapologetic gaze.

The lack of accountability Jess takes in her own life is hard to stomach, and her treatment of other people sucks more often than not. It’s the “main character syndrome” many people on (and off) screen love to indulge in, where their problems are the only thing that matters, and it’s used to excuse their behavior towards others. Any time consequences arise for Jess, she becomes the victim, all while the awful things she did are neatly swept under the rug. 

I want to stress this again: This isn’t the actor’s fault. Stalter is wonderful here; it’s how her character was written that irks me. Quite frankly, Jess deserves better. She deserves to grow and learn in a way that doesn’t harm those around her. Or at the very least, acknowledge that harm and learn to do better. And sometimes, that means taking responsibility for her actions and facing the consequences. I can’t help but think of the popular mantra, “Your trauma isn’t your fault, but your healing is your responsibility.” A lesson, it seems, this show has yet to learn. 

That privileged lens also colours the tired stereotyping of the “British vs. American” debate. As a Brit myself who has worked with an American team for over a decade, I’m all for making fun of myself and my country—and believe me, I’ve heard it all before. But a lot of these jokes are dated and problematic. Given the show’s creative team-up of Dunham and her husband, ​​Luis Felber, and Love Actually’s executive producers, I was expecting the observations to be borderline offensive but witty; however, the show turns many of the supporting characters into caricatures, without any of the lasting charm of the latter’s 2000s British rom-com legacy.

Instead of being funny in its truths, these cultural differences are one-dimensional in their unoriginality—basically, making general assumptions about what Americans think British people are like (foppish, sex-obsessed, rude), and what Brits make Americans out to be (loud, socially unaware, “too much”). To borrow another popular phrase: You know what they say about making assumptions. These stereotypes would perhaps be fun as a skit (perhaps a decade or two ago), but feel wrung out and overplayed during a ten-episode season. Or, perhaps I’m just too British to appreciate American humour. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

While many reviews will dive deeper into comparing and dissecting its British rom-com DNA, I couldn’t help but think of the 2024 series Nobody Wants This. Too Much feels like it wanted to recreate that euphoric feeling of the iconic “I can handle you” scene, but it failed to lay the groundwork for the hope for something better, only the hope that things don’t get any worse. 

For anyone who’s been told they’re “too much” (including myself on several occasions), it doesn’t do anything to alleviate the anxiety about that feeling, or reclaim it as a good thing. All it does is make you wish the journey towards finding out “if true love is still possible” included more focus on emotional healing, instead of a sudden sprint towards a happy ending without any real work to get there.