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Phoebe Waller-Bridge, the creator and lead actor of “Fleabag,” performs a stand-up comedy routine in 2019.
BY TISHYA KHANNA ’23
When this show’s lead female character, Fleabag, goes to a Quaker meeting with the hot Catholic priest she has a crush on, what does she, an atheist, say when the Spirit unexpectedly moves her? “I sometimes worry that I wouldn’t be such a feminist if I had bigger tits.”
That is the dark, angry, dirty, hilarity of “Fleabag” for you.
Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s BBC series, based on her one-woman show of the same name, is the ecstatic original comedy that we all need. It is the story of a woman in her early 30s, called Fleabag (played by Waller-Bridge herself), trying to figure out her life after the death of her mother and her best friend, Boo. The series has two seasons, six episodes each of 25 minutes — a seemingly short span — but Waller-Bridge’s ingenious writing manages to fit in almost everything perfectly, from a hot priest, to a complicated sibling relationship to struggling with her own self-awareness.
The show is guided by Fleabag’s unfiltered and hilarious commentary to the camera. She cuts off mid-sex, during serious conversations, dinner parties — turning all moments into her own quirky and dark narrative. That said, the cameras are her closest friends, the ones she confides in and relies on. Even then, she hides parts from them, like her guilt over Boo’s death among other haunting memories. Nevertheless, it’s the cameras (or the audience) that truly know her.
Waller-Bridge manages to pierce through deep topics like religion, death and sexuality with her brutally honest punchlines. Her humor is based on keen observations, often masking her own insecurities and trauma. It is self-deprecating, dark and unbelievably hilarious.
Underneath the jokes lies the journey of her self-awareness. Through the two seasons, we see her grow and learn while coming to terms with her past. What is striking about this is that, despite her messy self, her growth is focused more on coming to terms with her demons rather than shunning them away. We see her learn to accept herself and be more vulnerable.
This is made clearer in season two, when the priest (Andrew Scott) comes in and she falls irrevocably in love with him. This twisted affair makes her (and the priest) open up and challenge their perspectives of the world. While Fleabag battles with the challenge of vulnerability, the Priest battles with his own morals and religious views. It’s interesting to note that the Priest is the only person who manages to notice the cameras as well — a fitting representation of their changing selves.
One of my favorite scenes from the show is in episode three of season two, during which Fleabag is drinking at a bar with the “Business Woman of the Year,” Belinda (Kristin Scott Thomas). Belinda complains that Women’s Awards are a condescending sub-category of celebration culture. The conversation turns into a timely discourse on feminism, sexuality and the challenges of being a woman in business.
Fleabag’s relationship with her sister Claire (Sian Clifford) occupies a huge part of the series. The complexities of the sibling relationship are strikingly real — they both will give their lives for each other, but will not give the other their sweater. Claire is the Type-A perfect sister, while Fleabag is the train-wreck. Clifford’s brilliant portrayal of the uptight sister, who eventually reveals her deeper, more emotional side, makes their chemistry one of the best parts of the show. The real love story in the show is between Fleabag and Claire, whose relationship grows over the course of the series.
As much as we would want another season (which Waller-Bridge has no plans to write), the show ended on a remarkably flawless note. The show is caustic, exciting and unexpectedly tender.