Despite its mixed reviews, I was glued to the screen while watching the BBC adaptation of Dolly Alderton’s Everything I Know About Love — and it’s because I saw my own life recalled before me. I’m twenty-two at the time of writing this review, a couple of years younger than the show’s protagonist Maggie, but it’s like we were one of the same — from the career goals, messy situation-ships, relationships with illicit substances, down to the haircut. Maggie is an aimless graduate sharing a house with her three best friends, trying to bridge the gap between her partying student days and growing up into a full-time career with serious relationships. Her life is a little bit of a disaster at every turn, but her growing understanding of adulthood as she navigates her twenties is what makes the show so gripping and realistic.
The show’s main divide between praise and criticism seems to derive from its characters. Based on the author Alderton herself, Maggie’s character has been deemed difficult to like, as she is not without flaws and, frustratingly, repeatedly makes poor decisions for herself and those around her. She’s not a great friend — she can be self-centred and immature. For some, the relationship that Maggie has with alcohol and drugs will feel authentic. For others, it will be just out of reach. Her first romantic connection is introduced as musician Street, and he’s a walking red flag who’s difficult to root for. Emma Appleton’s lead role as Maggie is convincing, and her dynamic with her flatmates is charming; we are presented with a glimpse into their respective lives, which touch on issues such as the battle between doing what you love and ‘selling your soul’ to the corporate world, extramarital affairs and racism.
Another talking point is the true extent of the show’s relatability. The target audience is fairly specific — aimed at those currently in their twenties or only recently out of them — due to its millennial influences, early 2000s-2010s British pop culture and the change in dating culture brought about by the rise in apps and online sexism. It also sees the technological advances of a job market emerging from the 2008 crash, and London’s reputation as a pricier but noticeably less ‘edgy’ place for young people. All these factors combined can make it hard to understand for those too young or too beyond this stage in their life.
For those who get it, there are certain scenes in the series that hit home. There’s one where Maggie wanders the streets of a semi-familiar city trying to put off a comedown and the resulting depression by calling every half-friend she’s ever had, and the loneliness is tangible. Her flatmates tell her that she’s ‘chasing the night' but there’s nothing left for her — a raw take of what it’s like to stumble your way through life without really knowing what you want in your twenties. She feels replaced by her friends with the all-consuming seriousness of their first long-term partners while caught up in her own strange ideas of love (in the book, the teenage Alderton declares that ‘a friend having a boyfriend is only fun if you have a boyfriend too’). She’s stuck in limbo with her career goals, sending in awkward CVs with typos hoping to put her university degree to use.
We spend all this time chasing this new trend, this never-ending social media-influenced culture of ‘romanticising’ every element of our existence — but we rarely get the chance to reflect and consider how much our seemingly ordinary lives can resemble the movies at this age. While we worry about overdrafts and our dwindling tolerance to hangovers, we face being judged by some for being too serious and others for not being mature enough; Everything I Know About Love encapsulates this feeling but provides a conclusion that tells us we should appreciate life for what it is. It tells us that we shouldn’t be ashamed for focusing on old friendships, taking things slow with a partner, or reaching a savings or career goal by an age difference from that of our peers; but, equally, if we’re inclined to make mistakes, we should have the freedom to do so.
Figure 1: Best friends Maggie and Birdie giving each other makeovers, Variety.
Comments