The Girlfriend is representative of a conundrum in contemporary television where the benefits of established stars, generous production values, and flexible episode runtimes are outweighed by the expectations they set. A sleazy psychological thriller about a deranged mother and her erratic daughter-in-law-to-be may have been a lot of fun if the premise had been stretched thinly over the course of a 22 episode series on a network, where it could gradually ascend to a high level of campiness; even a premium cable show with half the episode count might’ve been entertaining if its soul intention was to be provocative. Unfortunately for The Girlfriend, its presumably excessive cost would imply that it should be taken seriously. It’s not a series that’s pushed the needle that far in either direction; a legitimate drama wouldn’t be this reliant on hokey cliffhangers, but it's far too tame to be considered a work of amoral fluff.
The Girlfriend is the latest star-studded event series in the tradition of Big Little Lies, the HBO influential mystery series that cracked the code to dominate the market for female-led crime television; take a few big name stars, a bestselling beach read, and a few eye-popping moments bound to go viral, and it’s easy to dominate the streaming charts for a couple of weeks. Big Little Lies was a success, at least in its first season, because of the somewhat awkward blend of hard-hitting emotional trauma and sharp, incisive satire of upper-middle class affluence. The first problem with The Girlfriend is that there isn’t any pleasure taken in its wackiest misdirection; even the weakest Big Little Lies imitators, such as The Undoing or The Perfect Couple, featured a depiction of power and status that felt aspirational.
The titular girlfriend in the series is Cherry Laine, a real estate agent with a conveniently ambiguous past who’s played by Olivia Cooke. Cherry’s boyfriend, Daniel (Laurie Davidson), is swept off his feet in a way that’s suspicious given their vastly different socio-economic backgrounds. Cherry’s rebuke that their meeting was a “happy accident” is met with skepticism by Daniel’s domineering mother, Laura (Robin Wright), an art gallery owner whose obsession with her son’s safety is borderline unhinged. What The Girlfriend ultimately comes down to is a battle of wills; only one of these women will have control over the rest of Daniel’s life.
A generous reading of The Girlfriend might point out the irony of the series primarily told from Laura’s perspective, even if she’s more than often in the wrong. Cherry might step over the line with her deceptive manipulation of Daniel’s assumptions about her past, but a majority of her supposedly “dangerous” intentions are simple misreads on Laura’s part. Laura can’t help but consider Cherry a parasite whose sole intentions with her son are insincere; that Wright, the sole American member of the core ensemble, is meant to be a London resident might be the greatest indication of how out-of-place and narcissistic Laura should feel.
The issue with The Girlfriend’s perspective is that it's too willing to accommodate both characters’ side of the story in situations that should be definitive. The first interaction they share is concluded by a bitter standoff in which it's obvious that Laura presumed the worst about Cherry due to her dogmatic view of working-class people. It’s the type of moment that should’ve generated empathy for Cherry, which would in turn make her reactionary breakdown during a confrontation with Daniel’s ex-lover, Brigette (Shalom Brune-Franklin), a tougher pill to swallow. However, The Girlfriend is swung so hard in its alternating point-of-views that at first, the friction is caused by miscommunications that are more frustrating than they are dramatically compelling. After a while, the wars both women wage on each other’s reputations reach a level of pettiness that doesn’t inspire confidence that either character should be sympathetic.
The most obvious indication that The Girlfriend would’ve been better-suited for a network is its uncomfortable relationship with sexuality. Despite being aired on a streaming service that has allowed explicit content in The Boys or Fleabag, The Girlfriend is content to turn even the subtlest hint of sexual tension into a scandalous moment. Even if Laura is a socially conservative, overprotective mother who would assume any act of intimacy on Cherry’s part to be a threat to her son’s innocence, there’s not enough individually granted to Daniel to make him feel like any more than a MacGuffin. Davidson, a veteran of London’s National Theater, has an inclination to “play to the back of the theater” that’s affected many stage actors who transition to filmed media.
Wright’s had an interesting late-period to her career in which she’s accepted colder, authoritative roles in everything from Blade Runner 2049 and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, but Laura’s a character too impenetrable for a series so short on plot. Perhaps her mopey attitude would’ve been sustainable if The Girlfriend were layered with inflammatory outbursts and brawls at a constant rate, but Laura’s such an internalized character that it's nearly impossible to rationalize her interiority. Wright also directed several episodes of the series, which she also did on House of Cards; with both shows, her willingness to give actors to breathe in-between consequential moments was only limited by the relative strength of weakness of the writing.
Cooke’s in an interesting place as a television star where she has become so associated with her role in House of the Dragon, in which she plays the mother of several grown children, that it’s easy to forget that she’s 31. The maturity she’s been associated with does make it less believable when Cherry, in an act of fury, sabotages Laura’s exhibit as an act of revenge. Cooke’s willingness to heighten her performance is admirable. There’s a lot of less-than-stellar streaming shows out there, but The Girlfriend’s greatest sin is that it’s entirely unmemorable.