Being a woman in this world is a nightmare, and the internet is its own particular hellscape for anyone who identifies as female. Some of the tamer online insults I’ve gotten have included, “Get a real name,” and “Go screw yourself with your own finger,” all simply for writing something that some dudes didn’t like. But if you add any adjective to “woman”–be it queer, black, trans, fat, etc.–the horrors only magnify. Online bullying and real-world cruelty don’t seem like the best basis for a comedy, but “Shrill” simultaneously mines them both for tears and shrieking laughter. Based on Lindy West‘s memoir of the same name, this Hulu show looks at life through the eyes of a fat woman who faces cruelty from trolls both online and off, as well as those who want to be helpful but just end up being hurtful.
Aidy Bryant‘s Annie begins the six-episode season timid and uncomfortable in her own skin, unable to ask for what she wants in her relationships or at her job. She’s seeing Ryan (Luka Jones), but he makes her scramble out his backdoor post-sex so his roommates won’t see her. She writes the events calendar at the Portland website The Weekly Thorn, but her boss Gabe (John Cameron Mitchell, in a role based on Dan Savage) won’t let her do more. A fitness instructor shames her at her local coffee shop, and instead of sympathizing with Annie, the baristas compare her to Rosie O’Donnell. Her mother (Julia Sweeney) wants her daughter to be healthy, taking her for walks and stocking her fridge with bland, unsatisfying diet food.
All this gives Annie the push to finally value herself and see what her best friend/roommate Franny (a truly wonderful Lolly Adefope) and work husband Amadi (Ian Owens) have seen all along: that she’s worthy of getting what she wants.”You’re a total bitch,” Gabe says after she stands up to him. “And I like it.” She publishes her first piece for The Weekly Thorn, and though praise rolls in, both in real life and in the comments, she can’t help but dwell on the commenter who constantly calls her vile things, all based solely on her weight, rather than the quality of her writing.
“Shrill” will inevitably draw comparisons to HBO‘s “Girls” with its hipster setting, focus on relationships, and star who doesn’t look like every other woman on television. “Girls” regular helmer Jesse Peretz even directs the premiere, while “Obvious Child‘s” Gillian Robespierre and “Portlandia‘s” Carrie Brownstein also serve as episode directors. But “Shrill” is a different type of comedy entirely; like “Girls,” it’s funny and smart, but this Hulu show is sincere, centering on a character who’s flawed but oh so lovable. If you didn’t want to be Bryant’s BFF before this show, you will want to be now. She’s been an MVP on ‘SNL‘ for years, and her hilarious, relatable performance here proves she’s past due for a lead. Her Annie has moments of selfishness, but there’s a real kindness at her core that balances well with her badass moments and you cheer for her at every point. By the season finale, “Troll,” she’s grown a lot but isn’t quite “Shrill” (especially on the level of West herself), but that just gives me hope for a second season.
West and Bryant also write the series with showrunner Alexandra Rushfield, and they surround Annie with other nuanced, believable characters. Annie’s mother wants the best for her daughter, but it results in her hounding her over her weight. At first, Annie’s guy Ryan seems like a standard commitment-phobic slacker, but the show gives him the depth that most other comedies wouldn’t bother with. Gabe’s assistant Ruthie (Patti Harrison) doesn’t get quite the development others do, but her line-to-laugh ratio is the highest of any character in the series.
But while “Shrill” would succeed just based on its witty dialogue and well-crafted characters, what truly sets it apart from anything else on TV is its unique perspective. Fat women are so rarely represented on screen in realistic, positive ways, and this show puts Annie at its heart, rather than at the periphery. The insults and microaggressions that are lobbed her way will feel very familiar to many women. As a former fat girl (and someone who still takes up more space than society would like), “Shrill” made a part of me feel seen in a way I haven’t experienced before in media. It highlights the frequent cruelty that people inflict, whether intentionally or unintentionally, but it’s not just about the pain. This show is joyful in unexpected ways; the fourth episode is bursting with happiness and self-acceptance. Directed by Robespierre and written by high queen Samantha Irby, “Pool” celebrates fat female bodies, showcasing them at a women-only party filled with beautiful ladies of all sizes. Its normalization of real bodies is something I’ve never seen on television. Annie is changed by the experience, and we are too.
The show is almost too focused on Annie’s weight, but hopefully, we’ll come to a point in both this series and beyond where it isn’t even an issue. For those who haven’t personally lived in a body deemed too large, “Shrill” should still provide plenty of laughs through its sharp script and talented cast while creating empathy for others. But for those who have, it could be a watershed moment, where tears flow equally out of glee and a shared experience. [A-]